Vulnerant Omnes, Ultima Necat
by Florencia7
Summary: MidAWE.Elizabeth is distraught when Jack is found dead in the Locker.Given a chance to see him once again,she travels back in time to say a hurried goodbye.But is the fear of severe punishment strong enough to suppress the temptation to change destiny? JE
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** Hi everybody! Let me start by saying that I shouldn't be posting this... lol I should've finished _HWMB?_ first... But since _HWMB?_ is not likely to end soon, I decided not to wait any longer & just post this first chapter now:) And I'd be thrilled if you could read & review & tell me whether I should continue this story! Thank you:)

About the story:

**1) Sparrabeth!**

2) "_Vulnerant Omnes, Ultima Necat"_ (Latin) "All hurt, the last kills" is the inscription that sometimes appeared on old clocks & it refers to hours.

3) The story is set in the middle (roughly;) of AWE, so it disregards the rest of AWE... as for now, at least;)

4) ...& please, don't get _too_ alarmed by the summary...;)

**Summary:** Mid AWE. Elizabeth is distraught when Jack is found dead in the Locker. Given a chance to talk to him once again, she travels back in time to say a hurried good-bye... But is the fear of severe punishment strong enough to suppress the temptation to change destiny? Jack/Elizabeth

Disclaimer: Disney owns POTC.

**Vulnerant Omnes, Ultima Necat**

**Chapter 1**

Elizabeth opened her eyes, and looked around with apprehension. _Where am I?_ She tucked her ruffled hair behind her ears only to realize that her hair was soaking wet... And so were her clothes... She blinked, and then a large wave hit her from behind, and she lost her balance struggling not to be swept back to the sea. She threw herself forward on the sand, and crawled away from the waves, until they were not able to reach her anymore. Short of breath, she looked around once again. There was the sea, and the shore, and behind her there were lights and the noise of people's voices swirling in the air, screaming, laughing, talking, singing; crying, maybe.

Maybe crying too...

She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. Her eyes stung, but she was not sure whether it was only the sea water... Suddenly it all came back to her... That hollow feeling... That wave of cold creeping over her, enveloping her, tugging on her body and soul... Her soul... If there was anything left from her soul after _that. _

...If there was anything left from her, after she had slowly made her way across the oddly sandy deck of the _Black Pearl..._ The ship was silent and empty... Empty. It had felt as if the ship was dead... It had never been so much of a ghost ship before... But now she was... The _Black Pearl _was dead. Her black sails of mourning were as still as the darkness itself. The day was bright, but it was the day good enough for a funeral. There was no wind. It was humid. And cold... So cold, she could not even feel her toes.

The Locker.

She could not feel anything. The sun rays were piercing through her heart with coldness and fierceness of steel blades.

Her heart... So perhaps she had still felt something...

She had felt... something, walking below deck, slowly, very slowly, her every step heavier than the one before, her every step more reluctant than the previous one, her every step...

She was not sure why she was there alone. Why hadn't they followed her? Or perhaps they had... But she was unable to notice... It had not crossed her mind to turn around... She had to... She had to...

She had reached for the doorknob, and pressed it, her dried lips parting involuntarily... She had walked in, and swallowed...

The _Black Pearl_'s Captain's Quarters.

So dark...

So empty. Emp-

She had fallen to her knees, screaming. Why had she screamed? It was so quiet, and she would not have dared... She had been speaking in a whisper for weeks now... Now... And now... she had screamed. She had felt somebody's arms around her, but she struggled to break free, and she succeeded, tearing herself away from that embrace, throwing herself toward the motionless, pale figure on the floor.

"Jack!" Her own cracking voice had scared her. She had taken his hand, and cringed, and let go, but then grabbed it again with urgency, with impatience, with dismay... "Jack!" So cold, his hand was so cold... Why was it so cold? "Jack!" He had never looked that pale...

Somebody had tried to pull her away again, but she pushed whoever it was aside, and leaned down, cupping Jack's face in her hands.

"Jack." Not a voice, anymore... A screeching whisper, broken sound escaping her lips without her even knowing that it had... "Jack..." Tears had streamed down from her eyes straight onto his face. His face... that looked like a mask... So pale... So empty... His eyes... No eyes... His eyes hidden behind the kohl-covered eyelids... "Open your eyes, please!" She had shaken him by the shoulders, she had shaken him hard, but he still had not moved...

"Elizabeth..." Somebody had whispered gently, leaning over her. "Elizabeth... He can't..."

She had ignored whoever had said that. "Jack?", she had leaned down so close that her lips almost touched his... And then she had noticed... His lips...

"_I always knew you're a good man."_

...were stiff... and cold... and pale... almost blue... they were blue...

"Elizabeth... he is-"

And she had not heard _that_. Her mind had gone blank. She had lost consciousness.

...and there was only that word reverberating in her _unconscious _mind... that she could not have freed herself from... It had echoed... incessantly, endlessly, tearing her apart, sneering at her, screaming, beating, shouting...

Dead!... Dead, dead, dead, dead, de-

"No!" Elizabeth screamed shaking herself out of her reverie, covering her face with her hands, trying to suppress the memory.

Even though it was that memory that brought her here...

She slowly slid her hands down her face, and looked around...

The sea was calm, and the lights of the town made her feel even worse and more scared that she was already.

Where was she? It all looked familiar... The shore...

A wave washed over her, and then she noticed that she was still sitting on sand, so close to the sea that the waves had, again, no trouble reaching her.

She blinked. She was wearing a dress. A dress? She had been dressed differently in the Locker...

_What's the difference_, she thought warily, staggering to her feet. The dress was light blue, almost white... She smoothed the dress absently, and looked up at the town and it's welcoming lights. She began to walk slowly toward those lights, toward the people and their lives...

Lives. They lived. They were alive.

_He is alive too. _

Elizabeth stopped, her heart raced in her chest. So it was really happening. She had done that. Tia Dalma... She really had done that...

Elizabeth squinted, and then it dawned at her, where she was... And she would smile if she could...

Suddenly remembering something, she reached to her neck, and took a small, silver medallion in her hand... She looked at it... Nine numbers... _Nine hours_...

The goodbye clock.

And one hour was already gone. A thin strip of silver had already blackened... She had already lost one hour, sitting on that beach...

Elizabeth gasped, and looked at the town lights with determination, starting to walk again. Her step quickened, and soon she started to run, reaching the streets of Tortuga when she was almost out of breath.

She looked around, hugging herself.

_Where are you? _

Nobody paid too much attention to her, and soon she found herself enveloped in the night, voices of strangers, distant laughter, and...

_...how much more?..._

... rum, as she walked straight ahead, looking around, and scrutinizing her surroundings.

_He must be somewhere. He must be somewhere._ She chanted stubbornly in her head, as if the words could make the reality adjust to her wishes.

And perhaps they could.

After all, it was what Tia Dalma had said...

"_But you must promise that you won't do anything to change yours or him fate. You may only be there for those nine hours, enough time to say good-bye. But nothing more."_

"_I understand."_

"_Here, take this. It will measure the time, the nine hours. And before the time is up, you have to drop this medallion into the sea."_

"_And if I wo- wouldn't?"_

"_You better make sure you will. The 9th stroke of the 9th hour, and if you won't be back by that time, you'll die."_

"_Just like... that?"_

"_Chronos is a powerful and merciless god. You don't want to anger him."_

Elizabeth walked inside one of the taverns, without even glancing at its name. She cringed, suddenly finding herself in the middle of a noisy, brightly lit room, full of smoke, full of people, and full of rum.

She felt out of place, and out of time... She felt as if she had no right to be there, to be a part of that reality, as if by sending one man to Davy Jones' Locker, she had killed more than one person...

She looked around feeling like a ghost among the living, even though she could not be sure how many ghosts were around her, while she was certainly real, and alive.

Alive. He was alive. Somewhere here, he was alive.

The past... She was in the past. Although it was difficult to notice. Tortuga was clearly one of those towns which did not change much over the years. She wondered how far back she had gone? How many years? Will he know her? Will he recognize her? Or perhaps she travelled so far back that he will not even know who she was...

"_To what point of the past will you send me?"_

"_I don't know. I can't determine that. It's not that important, what point exactly it will be, is it? Surely it will be a point at which he was still alive."_

"_Fair enough."_

"_Yes. But you must not tell him anything about the future."_

"_I know, you said that already..."_

"_Good. Are you ready?"_

"_I am."_

She wasn't.

The more she thought about it, the more she was beginning to realize that she wasn't. She was not ready to see him. To see him... alive after seeing him-

Elizabeth stopped abruptly in her tracks, frozen to the spot.

At the end of the room there was a very long table at which sat a large group of people. Men and women talking in loud voices, bursting with laughter every other minute, drinking, singing even. Well, at least attempting to sing.

But she could hardly hear anything. She leaned against a wooden pillar that was supporting the roof, and looked straight ahead, transfixed.

"_One word, luv: curiosity. You long for freedom. You long to do what you want to do because you want it. To act on selfish impulse. You want to see what it's like. One day... you won't be able to resist."_

She heard his voice in her head... His voice, his face...

His face.

He sat there, as if... As if. No. He _really_ sat there. He looked the same... He looked as his usual self, maybe slightly... She was not sure. There was something different in his appearance, but she could not quite place it.

He was talking. _Of course_, she smiled, and only then, when her lips twisted into a timid, sad smile, she felt hot tears streaming down her cheeks. She hurriedly wiped the tears away from her face with the back of her hand, and looked back at Jack.

She glanced over at people around him. Pirates, no doubt, his crew, most likely, but she could not recognize anyone. What moment of the past it was, then?

Elizabeth blinked, when all of a sudden, a women's hand began caressing his cheek. And only then she noticed that there was a women sitting next to Jack on his left side... and another one on his right side. And for some reason it irritated her. And the fact that it irritated her, irritated her even more...

_Why should I care? It has nothing to do with anything. With me... With... Doesn't matter. I have only nine hours to be here... to look at him... to say good-bye to him, to say... I'm sorry, even if he will have no idea why am I saying all those things to him..._

She stood silently, staring at him greedily, staring greedily at him _alive_, he was alive, and she had killed him. No. She _will _kill him, and he sat here, not even knowing that one day she will chain him to the mast of his beloved ship, and leave him to die...

Elizabeth blinked back the tears, and bit her lip. Why was she here? Why had she agreed when Tia Dalma had told her that she could give her a chance to see him once again... She was devastated, she was broken, and she... had missed him. She had missed him from the moment she had sat down in that longboat after- And she had known, from that very moment that the pain, _that _pain will never go away. And then, she had been given hope... When they had gone to the Locker, she believed, she had really believed that they would have him rescued... That it was possible to bring him back...

But it was not possible.

_Not probable. _She tried to smile, but couldn't.

She shook herself off her thoughts, and concentrated again on looking at him, and then she suddenly noticed that... he was looking at her too.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: _**Thank you so much for all the wonderful reviews:) **_

Disclaimer: Disney owns Jack, Elizabeth, etc.

**Chapter 2**

Elizabeth's eyes widened, and she felt a wave of heat and trepidation washing over her. Her heartbeat quickened, but then... Jack averted his eyes.

She blinked. Was he ignoring her? Or... Was he simply not recognizing her?

One of the women at the table leaned toward him, and kissed him on the neck.

Elizabeth looked away, trying to ignore that strange-

_Nine hours... Only nine hours... I should not be wasting the time on being jeal- I am not- _She took a deep breath, and looked up... only to meet his dark brown eyes staring at her... again.

On an impulse, she wanted to run away, she wanted to hide, but somehow... she could not move. Neither could she tear her gaze away from him. She tried to decipher the look in his eyes... Did he know who she was? It seemed he didn't... There was a small smirk playing about his lips, and there was a glimpse of amusement in his eyes... Amusement? Not really... If she would have to describe it...

And then he looked away again... He grabbed a bottle of rum, and took a swig. Elizabeth observed him closely. His hand, his fingers closing around the bottle, his face, his eyes looking down so she could see the kohl on his eyelids, his lips... His lips...

"_You came back."_

He put the bottle down, and... slowly lifted his eyes to meet hers again. She shivered.

Curiosity.

In his eyes. If she was to describe the look in his eyes... It was curiosity.

And then it dawned on her. _He must be wondering why I am staring at him. If he doesn't know me... yet..._

Elizabeth took a step back, half-hiding behind the pillar. What was she going to do? She had come here to see him... to talk to him... But how was she going to do that? She could not just come up to him and tell him that she wanted to talk to him for a moment... For an hour... For nine hours... Eight, actually. She took the medallion in her hand, and looked at it. Seven and a half...

"Waitin' for somebody, luv?"

Elizabeth whirled around, and almost fainted, when she came face to face with Jack. He stood right behind her, smirking slightly, his dark eyes wandering all over her face with embarrassing intensity.

There was indeed something different about his appearance, or his _mood_, rather. His gaze was brighter, less piercing. Enticing, and mysterious all the same, but more clear, as if, more... She hesitated. More... naive?

She stared at him wide-eyed, rendered speechless. And she was on the verge of tears, suddenly struck by the realization, that he was here, speaking to her, looking at her, that he was _alive_, while in the reality, in _the future_ he was... dead.

"Haven't seen ye here before, luv", continued Jack, apparently not discouraged by her unresponsiveness.

"I just- I just came... here", stammered Elizabeth with great difficulty, trying very hard not to burst out crying.

"Ah", he took a step forward, and she, quite against her will, shivered. He tilted his head to the side, and gave her his lop-sided grin.

_I will never see this grin again... I killed it... God, oh God, I killed him!... _The words washed over her like icy cold water. She had no right to talk to him. How did she dare? How could she stand in front of him and just behave as if nothing had ever happened, as if nothing _will_ ever happen, as if-

"What's yer name, luv?"

"What?" Elizabeth blinked, licking her lips, clenching her fists, and holding back tears with great determination.

"Yer name", he said in a slightly amused, low tone of voice, leaning closer. "I'd be very much interested in yer name, luv, as well as in the reason why ye've been starin' at me for the last half an hour. At least", he added as an afterthought, and smirked.

"I was not-", she trailed off, losing herself in his eyes; for a moment.

How could she ever- Why had she ever-

For a transient, passing, abstract, alluring moment she thought that she did not want to leave. That she wanted to stay here with him, and start all over... That she wanted to kiss him again... That she wanted him to trust her again.

That she wanted him.

_No, I don't. I want Will. _She grimaced. The sentence feeling strangely awkward, and she did not want it to feel awkward. And even if it did feel awkward (which it didn't... or at least shouldn't...) What difference did it make?

It was too late.

_I killed him. I will kill him. I murdered him. I-_

"Ye're alright, lass?"

Elizabeth blinked, and looked at Jack, his forehead slightly wrinkled, his eyes narrowed worriedly, as he apparently finally noticed strange glassiness of her eyes, and a grimace flickering across her lips.

"No, I'm not", whispered Elizabeth in a cracking voice, surprising even herself, when she unexpectedly threw herself on him, flinging her arms around his neck, sobbing uncontrollably.

Jack's eyes widened, and he stumbled backwards, trying to keep his balance, and looking around in slight confusion, wriggling his fingers over her back for a moment, before finally deciding on wrapping his arms around her.

"Everything's fine", he muttered reassuringly, patting her back in, what he hoped to be, a friendly manner. He was not really prepared for that kind of reaction. Neither had he much experience with crying women.He had just spotted her staring at him, so he thought he might start a conversation... "I think ye need a drink, girl", he said more to himself than to her, motioning them toward the nearest table, and waving his hand at a barmaid.

He sat Elizabeth down in a chair, drawing a chair for himself close to hers. "Alright", he said in a serious tone of voice, taking her hands in his. She trembled, his touch bringing even more tears to her eyes. His touch... while she could still feel the coldness of his hands, the cold shade of blue on his lips, when they had found him- "What's his name?", he asked matter-of-factly. "Maybe I know 'im, know where 'e is", he added in a low voice, drawing back a little, when the barmaid approached the table, putting two bottles of rum in front of them. Jack paid for the rum, and looked back at Elizabeth, who stared at him wide-eyed.

"Whose name?", she asked, baffled, thinking about wiping the tears away from her face. But in order to do that she would have to take her hands out of his... And she did not want to do that...

Jack looked at her thoughtfully for a moment, rephrasing his answer several times before actually saying it out loud. "The man's who did to ye all those things that make ye cry right now." He grimaced slightly, not very pleased with the final result of his rephrasing.

Elizabeth looked at him, dumbfounded, beginning to understand his line of reasoning. "He didn't do anything", she whispered after a moment of silence. "I did", she added quietly, biting her lip, and wincing, about to burst out crying once again.

"No, no. No crying", Jack waved his hands in front of her face, uncorking one bottle of rum, and handing it to her.

Elizabeth shot a long, considerate look at the bottle, before finally taking it, and drinking a bit.

"There", smiled Jack, tugging a loosely hanging strand of her hair behind her ear, and locking his eyes with hers for a moment, when she darted her eyes to him at the gesture.

They looked at each other in silence, and Elizabeth had a strange impression that the world did really stop for those several moments, and for a brief while there was nothing else but them in the entire world. And she wondered whether he felt something similar too.

Jack cleared his throat, breaking their eye-contact. _Strange... _"So", he started, looking back at her. "What did ye do?", he asked with a faint smile, looking at her with warm interest.

_Why should he even care?... Because he is a good man_, Elizabeth answered her own question with a weak, inward smile._ He has always been a good man_, she thought warily. _He... was._ She gritted her teeth, holding back tears.

"I kissed him", she whispered blankly.

Jack's eyes widened, but he managed not to chuckle. "Oh", he acknowledged diplomatically. "He didn't get upset 'bout that, did he?", he asked, trying to keep his voice serious, if only for the lass in distress' sake. She seemed serious, so he figured that he should at least _appear _serious too.

"And then I killed him." Her voice was hollow, and her gaze, almost involuntarily dropped to the floor.

Jack blinked, trying to decide whether the girl was _over_sincere, crazy (or both), or perhaps she was just making fun of him. "Oh", he said again, looking at his hands holding hers, and thinking if he should withdraw his hands after all. "Well", he started after a pause deciding that he may risk holding her hands for a moment yet, especially that they looked quite harmless, and that he actually enjoyed holding her hands... "I'm sure he deserved that", he said at loss for a better response, knitting his eyebrows together, and deciding that it would be best to pretend that he believed her.

She looked up at him trying to see whether he was being ironic... But even if there was a hint of amusement in his gaze, or in his voice, it was well-hidden, because she could not find it. "No, he didn't", she said quietly.

"Oh."_ Damn me if she ain't got most beautiful eyes_, he thought, simultaneously considering why she was so stubbornly claiming that she-But then his train of thought was interrupted by a very unexpected occurrence. All of a sudden, she leaned forward, cupped his face in her hands, and kissed him passionately on the mouth.

It crossed Elizabeth's mind that she probably should not be doing this (_probably?!_), but... there was so little time, and... And for some reason she just felt that she _had to _kiss him. That she wanted to feel his lips on hers one more time. She intended the kiss to be brief, just enough to let her feel alive again, after she had sent him, mentally sending herself as well, to the Locker. She did not think whether he wanted it, but it did not matter. _Pirate. She _wanted to kiss him, and... she just could not stop kissing him. It frightened her how similar the kiss was... how similar was the taste of his lips... Sweet, dangerous, fiery... _It must be like fire tastes like_, she thought half-consciously, forgetting altogether about the intended briefness of the kiss.

At first Jack was so astonished that he could hardly form a coherent thought, and when he finally formed a coherent thought, he wondered whether it was a good thing that she was kissing him, considering what she had just said... But it felt so _damn heavenly_, that he decided to think about the consequences later, and promptly pulled her closer, placing one hand behind her head, and the other on her back. He deepened the kiss, forcing her to part her lips, and it shocked him how completely blank his mind went when she moaned quietly against his mouth. It was unbearable. The taste of her lips was more intoxicating than anything he had tasted before. He entangled his hand in her hair, shivers running up his spine at the subtle sensation of her soft hair brushing against his hand, at the feeling of her soft lips pressed against his... Her lips that tasted like... _oranges_, he thought warily. _Oranges, and wild flowers, and-_

She broke the kiss, gasping for air, and he reluctantly opened his eyes, only then realizing that he was out of breath himself. They looked at each other breathing heavily, with their eyes ablaze. He drew his hand across her face, and she closed her eyes, smiling faintly, and leaning into his touch.

"They've", he gasped, leaning his forehead against hers "rooms upstairs..."

Her eyes snapped open, and he could not quite guess what that look in her eyes meant. But he noticed that her smile fainted. Had he said something wrong?

Elizabeth stared at Jack in bewilderment, having a brief, strange, sharp impression as if he had stabbed her with a knife. _He thinks that I'm a-_, she thought numbly._ Of course he thinks that_, she snorted to herself bitterly._ What else can he think? In Tortuga. Especially after what I just did. Throwing myself on a stranger. _Her mind was racing, and she felt her heart beating furiously in her chest when it suddenly occurred to her that she could actually- that they could- that he wanted-

What about Will? What about him... Would it count? If it was only a dream... Was it a dream? What was it? The past, but... How real it was? Would it count as a betrayal if she-

No, no. No! What was she thinking?!

She tried to remain reasonable, but her mind, conjuring up most bizarre images. was not necessarily helping her... All of a sudden she imagined herself in Jack's arms... His lips trailing kisses on her body... His breath caressing her skin... His dark eyes hovering over hers... Smiling...

"Let us go, then", she whispered quickly, as if trying to outrun her own thoughts, hardly seeing him anymore through the mist that fell over her darkening eyes. _What am I doing?! What am I doing... I should've slapped him..._

"Aye", he agreed feverishly, and swallowed, quickly staggering to his feet, dragging her with him, squeezing her hand almost to the point at which it hurt. But she did not care.

_I should've slapped him, but... it would be better to talk to him without all those people around... It would be better to talk to him in private... _To talk. That was what she was going to do. That was _all_ that she was going to do. She wanted to talk to him. She had so many things to tell him...

And there was only seven hours left...


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: _**Thank you so much for all the amazing reviews!**_

...I believe I'm keeping closely to the timeline suggested in the movies, but of course if you have any comments (now & in the future), please don't hesitate to share them;) And also Jack's age being an unsolved mystery, I just chose to assume that he was 35 in the CotBP.

Disclaimer: Disney owns POTC.

**Chapter 3**

_Talk, talk, talk_, chanted Elizabeth in her head, gradually forgetting what the word actually meant... And even remembering... What did she want to talk about? If she could not tell him anything... _If?..._

_White fire -_ was his association when he tried to analyze the overwhelming sensation that was blurring his vision, and disrupting his thoughts. He had never felt this way before, and that realization itself would be perhaps enough to scare him, that is of course if he was not Captain Jack Sparrow, (which he was), therefore he decided not to waste too much time on pondering it.

Although it was quite disturbing that he felt such a strong _emotion _towards anybody... It was difficult to explain (especially that he was in no position to seek explanation; with her in his arms...)

There was just something strange about her, something different... What with the crying and 'killing' and all, but it was not only her words that were unusual... Everything about her was unusual, enticing, intoxicating... And these eyes... Brown... Honey brown... almost gold... _Dark gold._ The dark gold eyes reminding him of something... Or rather making him forget?... He could not decide...

He got a room, and opened the door (having some difficulties with finding the doorknob with his trembling hand. _Bugger.) _It has never happened before. Never before had he been so bewitched by a woman. Maybe she was a witch? Maybe she was. All the same. He wanted her. He wanted her like hell, and he did not care who she was, and what she had done (although he was pretty sure that she had done nothing.)

He closed the door shut behind them, and pinned her against the wall, crushing his lips against hers. There was something about the way she was responding to his kisses... He did not know what it was, but... It was as if she was kissing him back with as much passion as she could muster... Without holding back... As if she- But of course _that_ was not possible.

"So what's yer name, luv", he asked in a husky whisper, breaking a bruising kiss, because of that infuriating, recurring necessity to breath.

"Lizzie", she whispered, slowly opening her eyes, and looking at him dreamily, only after a moment realizing what name she had given. _Lizzie..._

She could not believe it was really happening... _But it's not really happening_, a sensible voice in her head reminded her. _Or is it?..._ But even if it was really happening, it was just a meaningless moment in the past, already gone, already wasted, already... _murdered_.

"Such a pretty name", he murmured into her hair, his hands searching the back of her dress for stripes and buttons.

She gasped, pushing his coat off his shoulders, nestling her head into the crook of his neck, smiling against his skin nigh subconsciously, breathing in his scent, _Jack's scent_.

"Jack", she whispered, and his eyes snapped open at that. He tilted his head backwards a little, just enough to look at her.

"An' just how d'ye know me name, luv?", he asked with a cautious smirk, gently propping her chin with his hand, and brushing his thumb across her lips.

Elizabeth blinked, caught off guard by the question, half-remembering that he, indeed, had not introduced himself yet...

"Who doesn't?", she replied brightly, brushing her lips against his, and feeling a smile forming on his lips.

"Is that so?", he asked under his breath with a roguish smile, and she could not help but smile to herself at the tone of his voice, and the hint of self-satisfaction in it.

"Captain. Jack. Sparrow", she whispered smilingly, kissing his lips between the words. She tried to ignore all the warning voices in her head, trying to ignore any thought urging her to be reasonable. She just came to say good-bye... She just came to see him, tell him that she was sorry... It was meant to be a nigh spiritual journey, katharsis...

...and instead she was letting him kiss her senseless, and-

_He is dead._

"Ye're alright, Lizzie?", he asked concernedly, and Elizabeth stared at him wide-eyed, trying to figure out why was he asking- And only then realizing that she was shaking uncontrollably. She could not stop shaking.

"Yes", she nodded without much conviction, clinging to him. _He is alive... now._

He held her close, and kissed her fully on the mouth again, but then broke the kiss, and regarded her face intently. She opened her eyes, and looked at him, and the sight was almost unbearable. His eyes, black, glimmering, unfathomable eyes... looking at her... Looking at her not even suspecting the role she had played... _will _play in his life...

It was unforgivable. All of a sudden she understood that it was unforgivable. And she had to admit that she had hoped, abstractedly and unconsciously, but still, to find forgiveness... Even if only indirectly... Even if in a very vague, half-imagined sense... Forgiveness that could not be granted. Because it was too late. Even now, before anything, it was already too late...

"What's the matter, Lizzie?", he asked gently, shifting his eyes from her eyes to her lips, and then to her eyes again.

"I...", she started, and stopped, feeling tears welling up in her eyes.

He kissed her softly. "Ye what, luv?", he asked in a low voice, running his fingertips across the side of her face. And he found it rather strange that a voice in his head said: _Lizzie's face..._

Elizabeth stared at him, startled. She could see in his eyes that perhaps the only thing he really wanted to do at the moment was throwing her onto the bed... And yet he was holding her, comforting her, talking to her... _Damn you, Jack. Damn you and your beautiful soul._

He did not know her, he did not love her (she snorted to herself; how could she even consider this? And why did it bother her, that he didn't...?). He wanted her, and that was all. And she could not expect anything more from him... not at the moment. _Not never_,she reminded herself sharply. And maybe it was also the only thing that she could do for him, that she could give him as some weird kind of apology.

She leaned into him, and kissed him slowly, tenderly, savoring the taste of his lips, and the closeness of his body pressed against hers... Why did it feel so... so... right?... So... inevitable...

She moaned quietly, when he tightened his embrace around her. He smiled against her mouth, and deepened the kiss, but then broke away, feeling that something was wrong, after all. He looked at her, and wrinkled his forehead. She was crying.

"What is it, darling?", he asked in a hoarse whisper with a hint of involuntary impatience in his voice. He did not want to stop. He wanted to kiss her, he wanted to touch her, he wanted to have her now, right now, but then again he could not do all of that when she was not only clearly troubled, but also crying. _If I should be doing all of that at all. _There was a very vague and ever-fading thought in his mind, that somehow, in a sense, he was taking advantage of her... Clearly, she was distressed, and even more clearly, it was not at all clear whether she was able to think clearly...

"I'm sorry", whispered Elizabeth ardently in a shaky voice, looking at him with strange desperation.

"Ah", he smiled softly, and began brushing the tears away from her face with his thumbs. "Nothin' to be sorry 'bout, luv. I think I know what the trouble is", he added under his breath, stroking her hair.

"You do?", she asked doubtfully, fairly certain that he did not know. He did not know at all.

"Aye", Jack smiled, cupping her face in his hands. She stared at him wide-eyed, terrified just by how much she enjoyed his touch.

_What about Will? I can't... Even if this is not really real... Even if it doesn't matter... Why do I even- Why would I even want to do this?_

"Don't be afraid... of me", he murmured against her lips, sliding his hands into her hair, and kissing her gently.

Elizabeth blinked. It suddenly dawned at her. It dawned at her what she was doing. Dream or not, half-real, real, unreal, it did not matter. Her behaviour was absolutely scandalous. What would her father say? What would Will say? What was she doing? And, most importantly...

What was _he_ doing?!

Elizabeth's eyes fluttered shut, and then open again, when she suddenly felt her dress falling down her shoulders, the fabric that had covered her skin replaced promptly by Jack's lips trailing light kisses along her collarbones. She knew she should do something... something _more_ than just tilt her head backwards, so he could continue kissing her neck, her chin...

"Jack...", she gasped, hoping that he will understand that what she meant was "Jack, stop", but somehow he was not getting her intended meaning, oddly, _at all_.

"Nothin' t'be afraid, luv. I'll be gentle, I won't hurt ye, I promise", he whispered, looking at her intently, and she could almost see the reflection of herself shimmering in the two black mirrors of his eyes.

Elizabeth stared at him, confused. What had he meant? Her eyes widened in vague acknowledgement, and she had to admit to herself that she did not know what she wanted to do... anymore.

She did not know?! She scolded herself in her thoughts, she shouted at herself, but somehow it was not helping, not when he crashed his lips against hers once again, kissing her fiercely, yet cautiously, as if leaving her a way out, the opportunity to pull away.

And she should pull away, she really should. She kept repeating that to herself in her mind, but simultaneously she was also responding to his kiss as passionately as she could, scaring herself. So was it how she really felt about him, then? (_Is it how he felt about me?..._)Was it what she really wanted, after all? Was he right?... Did she want him?

_I killed him._ She opened her eyes, breaking the kiss.

He looked at her, and smiled at her mischievously, yet warmly. Not really knowing why, she brought her hand to his face, and traced the outline of his lips with her fingertips. He studied her face for a moment, and then caught her hand, and, much to his own surprise, kissed each of her fingers. There was just something in her... Something about her... Something familiar... "What are ye doing here, luv?", he asked in a low voice, smiling slightly. "What are ye doing in this town? It ain't the place for ye, ye know", he added in a serious voice, slightly furrowing his eyebrows.

She blinked, caught off guard by his question, hurriedly trying to think of an answer. If she could not tell him anything about the future... If she could not tell him the truth... But then again who would know if she did? No, no. She could not. But she did not want to lie to him either...

"I came to say good-bye...", she whispered hesitantly.

Jack tilted his head to the side, and pulled her closer, wrapping his arms around her tightly. And it startled her; the sudden feeling of security that washed over her.

"To him?", he asked cautiously. "Might be quite difficult, seeing that ye 'killed' him", he said with a smile, and a glimpse of amusement flickering across his eyes. But his smile faded, when she did not smile back, instead, her face twitched, as if she was going to cry again.

"I did", said Elizabeth in a quivering voice, looking at him sadly.

_Here we go again_, thought Jack with slight amusement. "Alright", he took her hands in his, and looked her deeply in the eyes. "Don't get me wrong, luv. I ain't accusing ye of lying, or anything, but somehow I'm having a tad bit of trouble imagining these pretty hands of yers taking somebody's life", he said in a fairly serious tone of voice, waggling his eyebrows, and caressing her hands.

Elizabeth smiled at him brokenly, and dropped her gaze to the floor. How could she explain that to him? How could she tell him without telling him? "I left him on a ship, and the ship sank", she said at last in a hollow tone of voice.

"Ah", said Jack after a moment of silence, looking at her intently. "I see. I'm sorry-"

"No", she hurriedly cut him off, darting her eyes to him. "_I _am sorry", she said, gazing into his eyes frustratingly. What did she want to see there? What could she see there? Forgiveness? No, certainly not. Not a chance. And yet, she hoped to see something there, something to hold on to...

Jack nodded wordlessly, running his hand across her face.

"I'm very sorry", she said, feeling tears gathering in her eyes, as she looked at him, at him, who was here, but wasn't... Because of her... Because she had killed him, she had betrayed him, she had made him pay for her own deeds, she had punished him for her own feelings. She had killed him, because-

"Don't think about it anymore, luv", he said brushing his fingertips across her lips. "It's in the past. It wasn't yer fault. Nothing's ever a fault of one person alone, ye see", he said in a low voice, smiling reassuringly.

"I said I wasn't sorry", she said, as if she was not really listening to him. "I was, I am, I'm very sorry, I'm so sorry, Jack!", she burst into tears, and he tightened his embrace around her, whispering some comforting words, and trying to calm her down. "I'm very sorry, I'm so sorry, I'm sorry", she sobbed into his chest, shaking.

"It's alright", he whispered, beginning to feel awkward again. He did not think he was the right person... She needed a mother, a sister, another woman who could understand how she felt. Not him. Not a 23-year-old pirate captain, who had just gotten himself a worthy ship only two years ago... Not him who would rather tear that dress off her, and inconsiderately capture her unbelievably sweet lips in between his at this very moment...

"I'm so sorry, please, forgive me, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry", she was trembling and shaking, choking on the words, and beginning to sound nigh hysterical, and Jack was becoming to feel really uneasy. She did not seem to be calming down. Just on the contrary, she was becoming more and more feverish, repeating the same words in frantic abandon, tugging on his shirt, and asking him for forgiveness, and he began to think that there was really, sadly, something wrong with her... Perhaps she was not as sane as she looked at first sight... Poor lass... With her beauty, being a mentally ill person boded rather ill as well... There was plenty of people who would want to take advantage- Alright. He scolded himself. Perhaps he should not proclaimed her crazy only because she cried a lot, and kept asking _him _for forgiveness... Perhaps he just slightly resembled that man... (...which was a rather disturbing thought, since he really hoped that he hardly resembled anyone...)

"It's alright, Lizzie. Don't, don't cry, it's alright", he lifted her chin, and began wiping her tears-stained face with his hands. "There. No crying, luv. It's alright."

"Please, forgive me", she sobbed.

Jack sighed, but then a brilliant idea crossed his mind. "I forgive ye, luv. I do", he smiled, both at her, and at his smart move. Elizabeth looked at him blankly, but stopped crying. "Now. I forgave ye, so there's nothing to cry 'bout, is there?", he asked almost cheerfully. _That was easy. Should've thought of that earlier_, he thought complacently.

_Sane or not, she is insanely beautiful. _He smiled to himself, leaned down, and kissed her tears-soaked lips, gently sucking her lower lip into his mouth. Elizabeth gasped in surprise, but let him continue kissing, nibbling, biting her lips, until she felt as if she was about to faint. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and clung to him. It was the least she could do... After taking his life... She could at least let him take her...

She snorted to herself at the sound of her own words. It sounded almost like she was making a great sacrifice... Because it was easier to think about it that way... It was easier than admitting that she wanted to do that... That she wanted to be with him... That she wanted him to be with her since that night on the rum-runners island when she had half-wished that he would have behaved _less_ than like a good man, and _more _like a pirate...

Well, at least _now _he was decidedly behaving _more _like a pirate.

He pulled them away from the door, and never breaking the kiss, motioned them toward the bed.

"Jack", she whispered dreamily, the sense of guilt, the thoughts of Will evaporating from her mind.

"Bloody hell", muttered Jack, drawing back. Elizabeth opened her eyes, not really knowing what had happened, when she heard loud knocking at the door. "What is it?", called Jack in a clearly annoyed tone of voice, looking at the door sternly.

"Open the bloody door, Jack. I've got somethin' to bloody tell ye", bellowed somebody from the other side of the door, and Elizabeth darted her eyes to the door, having an impression that the voice sounded strangely familiar.

Jack sighed, and rolled his eyes, his arms still wrapped tightly around her. She wrinkled her forehead trying to-

"Can't we talk in the bloody morning, Hector?"

Elizabeth's eyes flew wide open.

"If this could wait until bloody mornin' I wouldn't be bloody poundin' on this bloody door right bloody now!", answered Barbossa in an impatient, and apparently slightly drunk tone of voice.

"Who's that?", asked Elizabeth unnecessarily, in a barely audible, hollow whisper, leaning towards Jack.

"Me first mate", whispered Jack.

Elizabeth froze.

She felt a sudden coldness running through her body, the thoughts in her mind spinning chaotically, her heartbeat no longer under control. If Barbossa was now his first mate...

_Oh God... _

"_You must not-"_, Tia Dalma's voice reverberated in her head mercilessly, but soon she stopped paying attention to it. She did not hear anything, except for her thoughts, and the realization that suddenly dawned at her, sending shivers up her spine...

_It's... before._

Elizabeth wrapped her hands tighter around Jack's neck, and snuggled her face into his chest, and she was too astonished and, for some reason, too terrified to even close her eyes. So she just stared at his shirt, her mind thousands miles away... and at the same time very, very close, as there was only one sentence echoing madly in her head, repeating itself, throwing itself at her accusingly; expectantly?...

_It's before the mutiny. It's before the mutiny!... Before the mutiny. Before..._


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: _**Thank you so much for all the beautiful reviews!**_

Disclaimer: I don't own POTC.

**Chapter 4**

"I'll just see what he wants", said Jack resignedly, cupping Elizabeth's face in his hands. She nodded absently, instinctively pulling her dress back over her shoulders.

Jack went to the door, and opened them hastily. "What?", he asked in a loud voice.

"At last", muttered Barbossa drunkly, forcing himself into the room, before Jack had the time to protest. "Oh, I'm sorry", he said with a low chuckle, noticing Elizabeth.

He looked slightly different, his eyes were brighter, and his step was rather brisk, even if right now it was affected by the state quite opposite to sobriety.

"So what's the matter?", asked Jack with slight impatience, pulling Barbossa by his sleeve, and drawing his attention back to him.

Elizabeth stared at the scene as if she was not even there. All of a sudden it was so very clear that she was in the past. And even if she had known that already, only now it finally occurred to her what it really meant to be in the past.

It meant to watch your nightmares happening once again, while you could not do anything about them.

Or could you?...

"We've got enough supplies", answered Barbossa, looking at Jack, but still glancing from time to time at Elizabeth. "We can set sail first thing in the mornin'."

Jack rolled his eyes. "Glad to hear it", he said, tapping Barbossa on the shoulder. "Now, if ye please", he motioned him towards the door. "I'm", he lowered his voice, "rather busy right now."

"Aye, I see", replied Barbossa with a chuckle. Jack opened the door for him, pushing him out of the room. "When ye'll finish with 'er, send 'er t'me, alright?"

The words reached Elizabeth, immediately snapping her back into the reality.

Jack blinked, astonished. But not by the question itself, which was not all that unusual after all... What astonished him was this odd, unexpected, sharp feeling of fury and irritation that for a moment overwhelmed him. He shot a look at Elizabeth who paled, and he was not sure whether it was because of fear or indignation.

"Ah!", exclaimed Jack, as if suddenly remembering something. "The introduction" He took a few steps towards Elizabeth, grabbed her by the hand, and led her closer to the door. She stared at him in stupefaction, wondering what he was up to. "Hector Barbossa, me first mate..." Barbossa smiled slyly, reaching for her hand. Elizabeth froze, glancing at Jack questioningly. "And...", Jack narrowed his eyes, shooting Elizabeth a warm look, which calmed her down a bit. "Miss Lizzie... Sparrow", Elizabeth's eyes widened. Jack smiled casually. "Me cousin."

Barbossa raised his eyebrows. "Yer cousin", he echoed sceptically.

"Aye", smiled Jack. "Me father's younger half-brother's third wife's youngest daughter", he explained smoothly.

Barbossa blinked. Elizabeth blinked as well, but quickly regained her composure. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Barbossa", she said with a polite smile, noticing a small twitch of Barbossa's mouth at 'Mr.' _Having grand plans already_, she thought with an inward snort.

"All pleasure's mine", replied Barbossa with an artificial grin, and kissed her hand. "An' what brings ye here, Miss... Sparrow?", asked Barbossa, squinting.

"A funeral", cut in Jack, before Elizabeth had a chance to even start thinking of an answer. "Lizzie brought some", Jack took a deep breath, putting on a serious look, "grievous news." He sighed. Elizabeth bit her lip, looking at him intently. "Our beloved... granduncle... Nelson Sparrow has passed away three days ago", said Jack with a grimace, in a solemn tone of voice, darting his eyes to the floor.

Barbossa narrowed his eyes, and glanced at Elizabeth, who shifted her eyes to the floor as well. "My sympathies", he said, eyeing them both suspiciously.

"Aye, aye", nodded Jack, tapping Barbossa on the shoulder, and Elizabeth struggled not to smile at the thought just how annoying that slightly patronizing gesture must have been to Barbossa. "Thank ye, mate. But now, ye understand, we have to discuss some... family matters, last wills, last won'ts, and all that, so..."

"'Course", said Barbossa with a sour smile. "I'll see ye in the mornin', then", he said, shooting Elizabeth a long look before staggering out of the room.

Jack quickly closed the door behind him, and swirled around "Now", he said in a low voice, immediately pulling Elizabeth into an embrace. "Where were we?", he murmured with a smile, looking at her intensely.

Despite all the disturbing thoughts that were running across her mind at the moment, Elizabeth could not help but smile seeing him smile at her like that... Like that. Like... Jack.

"I'm not sure", she started in a shaky whisper, just when he was about to press his lips against hers, "if this is an appropriate course of action between _cousins_."

Jack smirked, and caught her off guard by kissing her fiercely, before actually responding to her comment. "As a matter of fact", he whispered, breaking the kiss. "I must point out that me name goes very well with yers", he said with a roguish smile, which unfortunately quickly faded at the sight of tears welling up in her eyes. Again. _Not again. No, no, no, please, not again._

"Yes, it does", she said, and grimaced, tears slowly rolling down her cheeks.

"Lizzie darling, ye ought to stop crying, or else I'd begin to think that it's me who actually causes it", he gave her a small smile, and gently brushed the tears away from her face with the back of his hand.

To his dismay, she cried even more at that.

"I'm sorry", she said in a quivering voice, wrapping her arms around him tightly, and pressing herself to him as close as possible, as if afraid that he might disappear if her embrace will not be strong enough.

Jack sighed inaudibly. "Shhh", he held her close, slowly rubbing her back, and resting his chin on the top of her head.

And for a moment he felt absolutely content.

Content? He blinked, and tightened his embrace. More than content. Very content, very glad, very... happy? He knitted his eyebrows together, and tried to understand why holding her was making him feel _as if_ he was happy. As if. Happy. Making him... feel happy. Making him... happy? Now, that was getting ridiculous. She was not even out of her clothes yet, and he was already out of his wits. He closed his eyes, and buried his face in her hair, listening with wonder to his quickened heartbeat mixed with her quickened breathing, breathing in her scent; a wave of warmth washing over every inch of his body, and not only his body, but also his mind, his heart (_that_ was really strange), his soul... Soul? He had not thought much about his soul anyway... His soul... Somehow the notion brought certain grim thoughts back to him... _"...Thirteen years_ _ye'll be her captain, and then-"_

"Jack?"

He drew back, and looked at Elizabeth thoughtfully, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

"What are you thinking of?", she asked in a barely audible whisper, leaning into his touch, trying to focus on something else than that painful, vexing feeling of an urgent need to tell him, to warn him. Didn't she owe him that? The truth. Some truth. The warning. Some warning. Didn't she owe him... a chance to escape his fate? Like he had helped her so many times escape hers...

"Nothin'... important", he said in a low voice, cupping her face in his hands. "Just some old business", he added, not really knowing why he had actually felt the necessity to tell her the truth.

"Either not so old or not so unimportant", she answered quietly, pressing her lips against his in a soft kiss.

"Aye", he smirked slightly, quickly capturing her lips in another kiss. "Not all the memories are sweet...", he whispered, slowly pulling the dress off her shoulders. "But the past is not so important...", he kissed her shoulder, and looked up to see her face. She had her eyes closed, her head slightly tilted backwards, her lips parted. "If there is enough stars to carry ye through the present...", he kissed her neck, and the side of her face, until he reached her lips again, kissing her ardently. "To the future."

Elizabeth opened her eyes, and he drew back, looking into her eyes, and wondering how it was possible that he had an impression that if he looked into her eyes long enough, he would forget about the entire world, he would forget who he was; he would even stop caring who he was... He leaned down, and kissed her, hoping that it would help him shake off that frightening suspicion.

But, quite to the contrary, it only seemed to make it more plausible.

"_Lizzie Sparrow." _For some reason, the expression reverberated in her head, accompanied by a bitter-sweet feeling, a twinge of sorrow interlaced with-

_Ah_, a sneering voice resounded in her head, _but you killed them both. That Sparrow, and that Lizzie..._

Deep in thought, she only half-consciously noticed that he sat her down on the bed, and began taking her shoes off her feet.

"Jack", she whispered, not really knowing whether she wanted him to stop, or... never to stop.

He just looked up at her giving her his lopsided grin, and putting her shoes aside, climbed onto the bed, forcing her to back up, until she lost her balance, and fall on her back, her head landing softly on the pillows.

"Do ye even know how beautiful ye are?", he asked placing his hands on either side of her, his face hovering just few inches above hers.

Elizabeth smiled at him weakly, and drew her hand across his face. She could feel the warmth under her fingertips. The warmth of his face, the warmth of his flesh... _He is alive. _She gritted her teeth, the feeling of dismay paralyzing her. _He was alive._

The kiss was gentle, yet the feeling it evoked caught her by surprise. It was as if she knew everything... Even though she did not know what it was that she knew... Even if she did not know anything... It was as if she had all the answers to all the possible questions at her disposal, as long as his lips were pressed firmly against hers. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer, but then suddenly an image sprung in her mind. An image of him... on the _Black Pearl_... in the Locker...

Jack broke the kiss terrified by what sounded like as if she was suffocating. He thought that it was the lack of air that caused it, but the half-jocular apology froze on his lips when he saw the expression of absolute dismay on her face. "Liz-", he whispered, but she broke into sobs before he even had a chance to finish saying her name.

For a moment he thought that he had done something wrong, but then he noticed that she was not pushing him away. She was just crying, and tracing some chaotic lines all over his face with her fingertips, then she cupped his face, kissed him gently, and then cried even more. And he was at a loss of ideas as to what he was supposed to do, because apart from the fact that she had most certainly some serious mental problems, he was unable to draw any further conclusions. He stared down at her, slightly baffled, and indecisive. On the one hand he thought that he should move away, and maybe get her a drink to calm her down, but on the other hand he quite liked her hands caressing his face, her lips kissing his lips repeatedly... But seeing her cry was a disturbing sight nevertheless, and he was slightly astonished just how disturbing a sight that was. Disturbing... He just did not like seeing her cry. He did not _want _her to cry.

"Lizzie, Lizzie, don't cry", he said in a low voice, wrinkling his forehead and trying to wipe the tears away from her face with one hand, while propping himself up a bit with the other. He tried to ignore the absurdity of the situation, and just concentrate on comforting her. Which was unfortunately not so easy with her body being conveniently underneath his at the moment... He argued with himself for some time, before finally rolling over on the bed with a muffled groan. He laid on his back, and pulled Elizabeth close, so her head could rest on his chest. He wrapped his arm around her, and began gently stroking her hair with his other hand, feeling utterly ridiculous. "Hush, luv. It's alright. Nothin' to worry 'bout", he said trying to sound convincing, and beginning to think that her behaviour had nothing to do with her being scared of... well, him, in a way... There was something else, only he had no clue as to what that something else might be. Maybe it was the mourning? He had never mourned anybody, so he was not sure whether frantic outbursts of crying could be classified as mourning... But perhaps they could. Maybe that was it. She was crying after that man who had drowned.

He closed his eyes, furrowed his brows, and continued rubbing her back, and stroking her hair, while pondering why the thought of that man irritated him...

"I'm sorry, Jack", she said quietly after a longer moment of silence between them.

Jack opened his eyes, and looked down at her. "Tell me, luv", he said in a low voice, and paused, waiting for her to look up at him. And she did, and he thought that he had never seen such a beautiful, tear-stained face... "Why _exactly _are ye cryin'?"

She blinked, and bit her lip, slowly pulling herself up to sit on the bed. Jack quickly sat upright as well, facing her, and looking at her intently. She tapped the bed cover absently with her fingertips, staring pensively at her hands.

"I don't know", she whispered without looking up at him. Jack opened his mouth to speak, but she continued before he said anything. "I don't know how to tell you without telling you...", she said quietly, brushing a single tear off her cheek.

Jack tilted his head to the side, repeating her last sentence to himself in his mind, and finding that he quite liked it.

...Unless it meant something bad...

"I just... don't know...", she continued in a soft, barely audible tone of voice. "And if I told you, what would happen... and what would not happen... what should happen... even if it will not happen, because it can't happen..."

Jack glanced around the room hesitantly. For some reason, however, he was beginning to like her even more... even though she was making no sense... or maybe _because_ she was making no sense...

He leaned toward her, and rested his forehead against hers, smiling slightly when she shivered at the contact. "Ye don't have to tell me if ye don't want to... I just... don't want ye to cry, an' I thought that maybe if ye'd tell me why ye're cryin', I could do something to stop it", he muttered, sliding his arms around her back on an impulse to make sure that she was close, and she was not going anywhere.

Going anywhere... Why should she be going anywhere?... Going... Go... Gone...

Elizabeth smiled weakly. "There is no way to stop it, Jack", she said in a faltering voice, burying her face into his chest. "It's already over", she whispered blankly.

She could not think of anything to say... Except that she was sorry... What else could she say? Still, the thought about the mutiny stuck in her mind, and was not going to go away. If only she could tell him... There would be no mutiny, he would have never lost the _Pearl_. As for the Aztec gold... She would have told him about the curse, so he would not have gone after that treasure. And then... What then? He would have never shown up in Port Royal on that day when she had fallen from the fort... He would not have rescued her, and maybe she would have drowned. But wouldn't it be a fitting punishment? She should not mind, really.

But there was a problem with every change that she could make... That every change would trigger another change... And it was dangerously easy to lose control over the course of events... Yet, maybe she owed him just telling him about the mutiny and the Aztec gold... And he could do whatever he wanted with those pieces of information... It was not up to her to change his future... But perhaps it could be up to him? She would just tell him... a bit about it...

She would, but she couldn't. She could not tell him. Tell him. Tell...

"Nay, luv. Nothin' is over as long as ye live", said Jack confidently, unconsciously tightening his embrace around her.

She shook at that, and he wasn't sure whether it was a sob or a laugh. She tilted her head backwards, and looked up at him with glassy eyes. _A sob, then._

"_...can't tell him anything about the future..." _"Jack", she said quietly, looking at him hesitantly.

"I'm all ears, luv", he smirked faintly, brushing her hair away from he shoulders, and placing his hands there.

"Could you...", she trailed off, and averted her eyes.

It was naive. It was ridiculously naive. It was just a word play that she was playing with herself. What was she trying to do? Surreptitiously, she took a look at the medallion. Five hours. Only five hours. She sighed, pushing away the thoughts about the commotion that she might cause. It was before the mutiny, and not warning him that he was about to lose his beloved ship was like killing him again... She could not leave him here without at least trying to warn him...

"Jack, could you...", she looked up at him. "Could you fetch some paper and a quill for me?", she asked in a soft voice, trying to smile.

Jack blinked. "Paper", he repeated, slightly baffled by her request.

Elizabeth nodded. "Yes. And a quill."

He looked at her, and she could not quite guess what he was thinking at the moment.

But whatever he was thinking, at last he smiled, muttered "'course, luv", slid off the bed, and walked out of the room.

And it was only after he had closed the door behind him that he growled in frustration, bumped his forehead against the wall, and sighed, before actually setting off to find the paper and the quill, (which were decidedly not the most popular items to be found in Tortuga), and wondering what did she even need the paper and the quill for _right now_!?


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: _**Thank you so much for all the amazing reviews!**_

_**And a special 'thank you' goes to wonderful Sassy Sparrow for making a lovely 3D image for ch.2! **_(The link can be found on my profile:)

Spoiler: I know you missed him, so here he is lol

Disclaimer: Jack, Elizabeth, etc. belong to Disney.

**Chapter 5**

"What did you do to her?", shouted Will approaching Tia Dalma with an angry expression on his face.

Tia Dalma narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest. "Ye ought to calm down", she said with a hint of warning in her voice.

"Why is she not moving?", continued Will in the same manner as before. "Why does she look like... as if-"

"She'll be back soon", cut in Tia Dalma decidedly.

"Back?", Will frowned. "What do you mean 'back'? Back from where? Where is she?", he asked incredulously, glancing over his shoulder at Elizabeth's motionless body. "She is so pale...", he whispered.

"She'll be back in four hours", replied Tia Dalma looking at him steadily.

Will took a few more steps towards her. "Where is she?", he repeated sharply.

"Ye'd do wisely if ye'd rather go outside and help others with the ship. Unless ye want to stay in the Locker forever" she added with a faint sneer.

Will looked at her grimly. He did not want to stay in the Locker. He had not even want to _come_ here in the first place, but the _Black Pearl_ was his only chance to rescue his father, so he had come... Even though he had known that Elizabeth had wanted to come here for a different reason... which did not matter now. Now, that Jack...

He glanced at Elizabeth again, and squinted. Tia Dalma turned around, following his gaze.

"She's smiling", whispered Will.

"She'll be back in four hours", repeated Tia Dalma in a firm tone of voice, an unnoticed by Will look of suspicion mixed with curiosity flashing in her eyes when Elizabeth smiled again. _"What are ye doing, girl?"_

* * *

Jack sat in a chair by the table, with his head propped on his elbow, a bottle of rum in his hand, and an expression of half-frustrated, half-bewildered resignation on his face. 

At least he had made a smart decision to bring some food and rum along with the paper and the quill to the room... He took a sip, and continued gazing at the beautiful and vexing sight before him.

Elizabeth sat on the bed staring on the piece of white paper spread on the bed cover in front of her. She had not written anything yet. For what seemed like eternity to Jack, even though it could not have been more than half an hour, she was just sitting there, fidgeting, staring at the paper, and nervously biting the tip of the quill.

Jack looked at her, thinking that she definitely should not be doing what she was doing... He took a swig from the bottle, and tried to push his thoughts away from the subject. The subject of a beautiful, charming girl with the most alluring eyes, voluptuous lips, beautifully glimmering dark gold hair that he had ever seen, sitting on the bed, her dress sliding down her shoulders, her cleavage all too visible for her own good and his own peace of mind... Or the other way around...

Yet, it was a rather enthralling sight, and he tried to appreciate it... Although he would also appreciate the opportunity to engage all of his senses, and not only his sight, into the task... He let his eyes wandered all over her, taking in all the details, the outline of her face, the way she was nibbling nervously on her lower lip, the way her nose twitched, her eyebrows knit, the tresses of her hair fell over her shoulders framing her face in the most stunning way.

He wondered why she had been staring at him down there in the tavern?... Had she spotted him accidentally? Had she heard (since she had known who he was, like she had said, who didn't?, he thought with a smirk) that he was in town, and therefore sought him on purpose? Had she wanted to meet him? He had thought for a moment that after losing her... fiance, or whoever he was (he thought with involuntary annoyance), she had felt sad and distraught, and then she had noticed _Captain Jack Sparrow_, and decided to spend a night with him to forget about her despair...

Jack took another sip from his bottle, and sighed inaudibly. He quite liked this version. This version was quite plausible. At least he _had _thought that it was a plausible version. But the longer he thought about it, the less certain he was... The longer he looked at her... What was she even doing alone in Tortuga? It was not a safe place for somebody so delicate, so fragile, so beautiful, so innocent-

_Bugger. _He put his rum bottle away, and frowned at himself. Was it not grand? He was worrying about her safety and her honour, while locking himself in the room with her, and hardly thinking of anything else, but endangering said safety and compromising said honour. _Bugger._

Yet it was her who had begun staring at him _first_, who had _kissed _him first, he tried to reason. _Yes, but she was... well, she is not in her right mind... apparently..._

He briefly considered getting her drunk... Not very drunk. Just a tad bit drunk. Just little drunk so she would stop worrying about whatever she was worrying about... He glanced at the rum bottle, and sighed ruefully. Somehow he felt that it would not be the right thing to do...

_Bugger ye an' yer bloody conscious, mate. That is, of course, if ye even have one._

He watched her staring at the empty paper for a few more moments.

..._which ye don't._

Jack sprung to his feet, and approached the bed so quickly, that Elizabeth jumped up in surprise, and looked up at him with curiosity.

He bent down and before she had a chance to protest, he grabbed the paper and the ink from the bed, as well as the quill from her hand, and put them all away on a cabinet.

"Jack, don't-", she started tentatively, but stopped, when he slumped onto the bed in front of her, and roughly pulled her into his arms. "Jack", she repeated in a whisper, but he only smiled at her mischievously in response, and kissed her feverishly, pushing her onto her back, his hands travelling to her breasts, and turning all the words that she might have wanted to say into the series of incoherent gasps.

"I'll let ye write all ye want, luv...", he whispered into her neck, between the kisses. "But...", he lifted his head, and looked at her intensely, "later", he breathed.

Elizabeth's eyes fluttered open, and she stared into Jack's eyes in strange enchantment, the scenes from the past (_from the future_) flashing in her mind, as she looked into the dark, alluring abyss of his eyes, and she could almost see the bonfire reflected in them... hear the melody of the song... hear his voice, so sincerely telling her about what he loved most...

_He doesn't love me..._ She thought wearily, feeling a sudden twinge of pain at the thought, but she quickly pushed it aside. _I don't love him either. I don't._

_I don't... _

_I don't. I just want to warn him, because... he is a good man and... I owe him a warning..._

"Jack", she whispered cupping his face in her hands, and the light quiver in her voice alarmed Jack. He did not know what he would do if she was going to cry again... He might as well start crying himself.

"What is it, luv?", he asked, brushing his lips against hers.

"I really have to write it now...", she said in a faltering voice, sliding her hands into his dreadlocks.

Jack blinked. "I was under the impression that ye had some troubles with... whatever ye were writin', luv", he said cautiously, not wanting her to take offence, but hoping to convince her to abandon the idea.

"That's because I don't know how to write what I want to write", she said shakily, brushing her thumbs across his lips.

He took a sharp intake of breath, but made an effort not to tear the dress off her... just yet. "An' what do ye want to write, luv?", he asked hoarsely.

She looked at him thoughtfully before answering. "A story", she whispered.

_Oh, bugger, bugger._ "A story", he echoed, trying to sound as if he really understood the necessity of writing _a story_ instead of being in his arms. "What kind of a story?", he heard himself asking, although he really did not feel like having a conversation right now.

In the morning, the morning which was just a few hours away, he was setting sails for Isla de Muerta, and it was going to be a long journey.

Elizabeth sighed, and looked away. "I don't know", she whispered.

_Ah! _"Well", Jack cleared his throat. "That only seems to add more sense to my suggestion to leave the writin' for later, aye?", he smiled at her cheerfully, and cut off any further protests descending his lips upon hers.

Elizabeth put her hands on his shoulders with the intention of pushing him away, but instead found herself wrapping her arms around his neck, and deepening the kiss.

What was it? What was that strange feeling soaking through every fiber of her body, her body that felt lighter and lighter with every passing second...

"Jack, I-", she stopped in mid-sentence, suddenly struck by an idea; so obvious, so perfect, that she pondered it for a moment in astonishment, wondering why she had not thought of it earlier.

Telling him about the future was one thing... But telling him about _the present _was the other.

"What is it, Lizzie-luv?" he asked, letting his hand travelled down her leg, until it reached the rim of the dress.

"I'd like to tell you something", she whispered, struggling not to close her eyes, when his hand slid under the light blue fabric, resting on her knee. "That... that man, who was here before...", she tilted her head backwards, gritting her teeth in a helpless attempt not to moan, when he brushed his fingertips along her inner thigh. "Your first mate...", she managed to add, causing him to stop what he was doing, at least for a moment, which gave Elizabeth a chance to catch her breath.

"What 'bout 'im?", asked Jack with a slight frown, seeing no relation between the current _events _and Hector Barbossa.

"I think I... have seen him... before... More like... heard him, before", she stammered, looking at Jack with hazy eyes.

"Heard 'im before?", repeated Jack, puzzled.

"Yes", Elizabeth took a deep breath. "I've heard him talking... with some other... men... about some strange things..."

She was not entirely sure whether what she was doing was making any sense... And whether it would work at all... But it was worth trying... After all she was not telling him about the future... She was just telling him about what _must have happened _or_ must have been happening in the present_. She was _supposing_, not statingthe facts. She was _guessing, _not informing him. She was merely telling him what she_ heard_, and not what she knew.

She was not telling him about the future. She was just telling him what she had _recently_ 'heard'.

"What things?", Jack brushed a lock of her hair away from her face, and twirled it around his finger.

Elizabeth swallowed inaudibly. "Some treasure... Some... island... I think they called it... Isla de Muertes, or Isla de Muerta...", she grimaced and paused, noticing that Jack's mouth twitched, if only slightly.

"Aye", he said in a low voice after a moment of silence. "It's where we're sailin' to", he said with a small smile, tucking the lock of her hair behind her ear. "Tomorrow."

Elizabeth's eyes widened at an instant. "Tomorrow?", she echoed incredulously.

"Aye", confirmed Jack, smirking at her terrified facial expression. "But we'll be back", he said in a whisper, brushing his lips against hers. "_I _will be back, so-"

"They were talking about the bearings", cut in Elizabeth, averting her eyes, as if trying to remember. Jack tilted his head to the side. "About... some other island, perfect for..."

"For?" inquired Jack with a smile, tracing the outline of her lips with his fingertips.

"For marooning someone there", said Elizabeth blankly, shifting her eyes back to him.

Jack's forehead wrinkled slightly. "Marooning?", he repeated, still caressing her face, but now well-nigh absently.

"Yes. And... that man... the one who was here, he said... that the...", she hesitated, as if searching her memory, "the _Black Pearl_", she looked at Jack steadily, noticing fresh alertness in his eyes, "that the _Black Pearl_ deserves to have such a captain as himself", she finished, hardly hearing her own voice muffled by the sound of her beating heart reverberating in her ears.

_There. You said it_, thought Elizabeth, feeling actually better, even though she also felt very nervous. She looked at Jack expectantly, and he looked at her, but without seeing her, as it were. She saw in his eyes that he was thinking, that he was mulling over what she had said, that he was trying to make sense of her words.

And that look in his eyes... Now she knew what was different about him... It was that look, that unhidden light in his eyes: trust. Before all those betrayals that doused that light later...

_Before I killed him._

She blinked back the tears welling up in her eyes. She had cried enough. He did not need to see her cry all the time.

He did not need her. He should have never met (_he should never meet_) her...

If there will be no mutiny, he will not lose the _Pearl_, and if he will not lose the _Pearl_, he will never come to Port Royal...

And he will live. He. Will. Live.

Maybe... There was that quiet, irritating voice in her head telling her that it will not be that easy... That her reasoning was severely simplified. But at the moment she just wanted to hang on that thought. _He will live. _Maybe if he will not meet her, he will live.

Maybe.

"Maybe they were telling some stories?", said Jack after a moment of silence, and she was not sure whether he was asking her, or himself, and whether it was a question at all. He was looking past her, but then she shifted his eyes to her.

Elizabeth sighed, and placed her hands on either side of his face. "He doesn't even _look _trustworthy", she said in a quiet voice.

He looked at her thoughtfully, but then a small smirk flitted across his lips. "Do _I_ look trustworthy?", he asked huskily, inching his lips to hers.

Elizabeth blinked. She had just told him that his first mate was planing a mutiny, and yet he could still find it in him to focus on _her_. "Yes, but-"

She closed her eyes when his lips touched hers ever so softly.

"That's good, 'cause ye got to trust me now, luv", he muttered smilingly, kissing her repeatedly.

"But what about-", she tried to refocus his attention, but to no avail.

"I'll think 'bout it while ye'll be writin' yer story, aye?", he flashed her his roguish smile, and kissed her again.

She tried to calm herself down, but somehow couldn't. Was he really... Was she really... _Was it really going to happen? What about..._

"_Elizabeth!"_

_What about..._

"Jack...", she half-consciously slid her hands under his shirt, and drew them across his back. It felt strangely comforting, to feel his skin under her fingertips, and she just could not stop running her hands up and down his back.

"Lizzie", he grinned against her lips, slipping his hands underneath her, and loosening all the remaining straps on the back of her dress.

_What about..._

"Jack, I-", she trailed off, when he pressed her to him, lifting her body for a moment, and in one swift movement pulling the dress off her completely, throwing it over a near-by chair, and leaving her in her undergarments.

Elizabeth stared at him almost questioningly, as if expecting an explanation why-

But the explanation never came, replaced by the sweet, wild taste of his lips capturing hers into a tender, tantalizingly slow, and swooningly long kiss.

_What about... him... him... him... What's his name... what's..._

"Ye're so beautiful, luv", he drew his hand across her face. "Lizzie", he kissed her, and even without opening her eyes she felt that he smiled. "Lizzie..."

There was everything in his voice; everything that she cared to hear, needed to know, wanted to feel. Just the sound of his voice was making everything superfluous, vague, distant... She opened her eyes, and pulled Jack's shirt over his head, and threw it away, not even looking where it landed, not wanting to tear her gaze off him.

He broke the kiss to let her look at him, when she timidly ran her hands across his chest, and his shoulders. She blinked at the sight of one bullet scar. _One_.

_So many things that could have been – could be – avoided..._

She leaned toward him, and kissed his chest, noticing how his eyes fluttered shut, his smile disappearing from his face, and replaced by that curious expression that she had never seen before in anybody, and she could only guess what it meant.

Gently, he rolled over onto his back, pulling her with him. She looked at him with a small smile, leaned down, and kissed his lips, kissed his chin, trailed soft kisses down his neck, over his shoulder, and across his chest, getting lost in the thrilling sensation, in the heat that began coursing through her body, and she felt the warmth on her cheeks, in her head, in her heart...

Heart?...

And somehow she could not stop; the more giddy she felt, the more scared, the more hesitant, the more guilty, it all was paradoxically making her yet more reluctant to stop... As if she wanted to draw certainty from his touch, safety from his embrace, forgiveness from his kisses

Forgiveness?... No, it was not about forgiveness... anymore.

And when he reached for her, kissed her passionately on the lips, and slowly placed her again on her back, all the thoughts that did not concern him fled from her mind at an instant, throwing her into the world in which his face was the only sky illuminated by two black suns of his eyes; his voice like the wind, the air, carrying her across the stormy, shimmering sea of colours enveloping her at his every touch.

The sea, and the fire... fire... the fire and the smoke...

_Smoke?!_

They opened their eyes almost simultaneously, staring at each other in bewilderment for a moment.

"Do you...", started Elizabeth hesitantly.

Jack sniffed. "Aye", he muttered, and glanced over his shoulder, his eyes widening at the the sight of the smoke sifting through under the door. "Oi."

As soon as he had said it, they heard a loud scream, followed by other screams, and the loud noise of people shouting, screaming "Fire!!", running around, and calling for help.

Jack quickly jumped out of the bed, helping Elizabeth to stand up. "Must've broke out on the floor somewhere", said Jack, grabbing his shirt, and coat, and Elizabeth's dress, for which she had reached but he snatched it away from her. "There's no time for that, luv." He quickly pulled her with him towards the door, but did not open it. He placed his hand on the door's surface, but quickly withdrew it with a hiss.

Elizabeth looked at him questioningly. "What does that-"

"That it will burst out on us if we open the door", explained Jack, wrinkling his forehead, and then spun around and dragged Elizabeth to the window. "That's the only way", said Jack glancing at Elizabeth who had a very uncertain expression on her face. A smile flickered across his lips, and he placed his arm around her, pulling her close to him, while opening the window with his other hand. "But since we've already established that ye trust me, luv...", he leaned down, and kissed her.

She threw her arms around his neck, and returned the kiss with as much passion as she could muster. "I do", she breathed, breaking the kiss. He stared at her for a moment, his eyes shining. "Aye", he whispered, snapping back into the reality. "Come on, luv", he flung his leg over the window, stepping on the narrow sill.

"Wait!", exclaimed Elizabeth, snatching herself away from him.

"Liz-", he started, but stopped, when she quickly grabbed his hat from the floor, and ran back to him. She smiled faintly, and he returned a smile, but she saw a trace of some indefinite, half-surprised, half-thoughtful emotion flickering across his face. "Thank you", he said looking at her intently for a moment, before bringing his other leg to step on the sill.

"Be careful", she whispered, watching him with apprehension.

He flashed her an impish smile. "Luv", he said, holding onto the gutter with one hand, while helping her to step over the window frame, and motioning her to wrap her arms around his neck with the other. "I'm Captain Jack Sparrow", he whispered against her mouth, smirking.

Elizabeth smiled, but then her eyes widened, when she glanced past him. Jack, following her gaze, looked to his right.

"Not good", he said with a grimace, when the gutter squeaked, slowly detaching itself from the wall.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: _**Thank you so much for all the wonderful reviews!**_

Disclaimer: Disney owns Jack, Elizabeth, etc.

**Chapter 6**

"We have to go back on the sill", suggested Elizabeth quickly, staring at the gutter which was tearing itself away from the wall at a rather frightening rate.

Jack widened his eyes at her mischievously (making her, not for the first time wonder how did he always manage to retain that playful attitude of his, no matter the circumstances). "No, we just have to climb down faster", he stated cheerfully, and proceeded to follow his own prescription.

Elizabeth wanted to protest, but glancing down, she limited herself to clinging to him as much as she could, and trying to suppress the thought that just sprung to her mind, that she could stay like that forever... Like that... In his arms... In Jack's arms.

"Oh, shut it", she snapped to herself angrily, suddenly realizing that she had accidentally said it out loud.

"Shut what, luv?", asked Jack, sincerely baffled, softly putting her down when they reached the ground.

Elizabeth shook her head, blushing. "Nothing. I just-", she stopped, when Jack hastily pulled her into his arms, and dragged her further away from the building just before the gutter shrieked, and eventually detaching itself from the wall completely, fell to the ground with a loud, cracking sound.

"Ah. Good timing we have, don't we?", asked Jack contentedly, smiling at her, and still holding her close. Elizabeth glanced at the clothes that Jack had flung over his arm, and then remembered that she was definitely not fully dressed at the moment, not to mention the distracting lack of a shirt on Jack's side. He must have noticed the look in her eyes, because he grinned, and leaned down, placing a tender kiss on her lips. "Ye don't think 'bout gettin' dressed now, do ye, Lizzie?"

"I actually do", Elizabeth admitted tentatively, and smiled when Jack winced at her statement.

"_It's after you, not the ship."_

Elizabeth bit her lip, and quickly flung her arms around Jack's neck, pressing herself to him as close as she could. Jack welcomed the gesture with a wide grin, wrapping his arms tightly around her. _Strange lass_, he thought rather cheerfully. He did not really mind that kind of _strangeness_.

Elizabeth snuggled her face into his chest, and closed her eyes, trying to hold back the tears that were welling up in her eyes. She was breathing in his scent, and it was helping her forget... for a moment; for a moment not to think about what she had done.

"I'm sorry, Jack", she whispered in a muffled voice, and Jack's grin faded.

_Here we go again, aye, luv? _"Lizzie", he propped her chin with his hand, and looked her seriously in the eyes. Elizabeth blinked. He opened his mouth to speak, but then hesitated. He wanted to threaten her that he did not want her to say that she was sorry never ever again (a fearsome pirate method), or that there was nothing that she should be sorry about (a friendly pirate method), or... actually the third method seemed to be the most successful so far, therefore...

He leaned down, and captured her lips in between his.

...A Captain Jack Sparrow method.

* * *

"Yes, here", said Tia Dalma pointing to the place on deck, at the stern of the _Black Pearl_. 

Will gently put Elizabeth down on the blanket, placing her head on the pillow. It was very humid below deck, and although it was not much better outside, there, at least was something that could be considered 'fresh air', which term of course was a slight exaggeration, but still it was definitely better than a sultry cabin.

"Three hours", said Tia Dalma looking at Will intently, as if reading the question from his mind.

He looked up and sighed. "I wish I knew what's going on", he said sourly.

"Sometimes a livin' soul also needs to find peace", she said in a serious voice. "Before it can live on."

"Live on", echoed Will thoughtfully. "As if we are ever going to get out of here", he said looking around with exasperation. "And even if we will, how do we-", he stopped in mid-sentence, darting his eyes to Elizabeth, who shifted in her 'sleep'.

He brought his hand to her face, and pushed some strands of her hair behind her ear. She smiled faintly, and he smiled back at her stroking her cheek with the back of his hand. She tilted her head to the side, and he was just about to lean down and kiss her, when all of a sudden she whispered something. Will blinked. Tia Dalma took a few steps towards them, and looked at Elizabeth with her eyes narrowed.

"What did she say?", she asked Will, her eyes fixed on Elizabeth.

Will was silent for a moment, before asking his own question, in stern and determined tone of voice: "Where is she?"

"What did she say", demanded Tia Dalma, glancing at him impatiently.

But he did not have to reply, because Elizabeth shifted again, and repeated the same word that she had just said: "Jack..."

* * *

"Jack, where are you going?", asked Elizabeth incredulously when he handed her his coat, his hat, and his 'effects', as he called them, triggering some memories in her, but this time she managed not to burst out crying (although she felt like it). 

She had been a bit surprised when after breaking such a passionate kiss, instead of dragging her to some other place, he had helped her to put her dress on, and then he himself flung on his shirt, and they had quickly walked to the front of the burning tavern.

"Stay here, luv. Don't go anywhere", he said seriously, putting his hands on her shoulders. They stood across the street from the tavern, out of the fire range, but still fairly close to it.

Elizabeth nodded, somewhat bewildered. "But where are you going?", she demanded with a rather infantile desperation in her voice, which made Jack grin.

"I will be right back", he whispered against mouth, and kissed her.

"But-", started Elizabeth, trailing off, when he quickly walked away, giving her no chance to ask him once again where-

Elizabeth blinked, and with wide eyes watched him go inside the burning tavern, straight into the flames. She gasped, and was about to ran after him, but then he reappeared shouting something to the people standing around, pointing to something. She glanced at the number of men with buckets of water who tried to help fighting the fire, and when she shifted her eyes back to Jack... he was not there. She scanned the crowd, but could not see him. Not until he emerged again from the inside of the building carrying somebody in his arms. Elizabeth narrowed her eyes to better see the person that he was carrying. He put her on the ground, where some people from the crowd took charge of her. Her. It was a woman. And for some reason it stung Elizabeth, although she should perhaps concentrate on the very act of rescuing rather than on the fact that he had rescued some woman. She must have been important to him...

Deep in thought, and feeling strangely gloomy, Elizabeth almost missed the fact that instead of taking any further care of the rescued girl, he ran back inside the tavern, and some time later was running out of there again with another person in his arms. And then she understood. He was not rescuing any specific person... He was just rescuing whoever was trapped inside...

She watched him come and go several more times yet, and after that watched him help some people who tried, to no avail, defeat the flames. But the buckets filled with water were not enough, and the building was blackening at a terrifying rate, slowly falling apart.

At last everybody seemed to give up, and they backed away from the charred walls of the tavern. Elizabeth stared blankly into the distance, pondering the sight, and trying to focus on something else, but that bitter feeling that was flooding her mind, making her feel even worse than she had already felt.

Here she was, seeking forgiveness. _Forgiveness._ She snorted to herself, closing her eyes to stop the tears from rolling down her face. He was rescuing, he was risking his life for the people whom he perhaps did not even know too well... And she... She had killed him. She had killed him. Him, who had rescued her. More than once. She had killed him... And why? What for? To escape? To escape what? A monster? Guilt? Fate? Temptation? To help escape others? She gritted her teeth. _That_ was a truly good excuse. Very good, indeed. Except, that it was a lie, a lie which she had herself believed as well... at least for some time.

She had killed him- No. She... _will_ kill him. She will, if... If... If.

Elizabeth hurriedly reached for the medallion, her eyes widening. "Two hours", she whispered to herself with disbelief, a cold shiver running up her spine, as she suddenly panicked at the thought that she would never feel his lips on hers again, his arms around her, his voice-

But she did not care. It had nothing to do with forgiveness... Or Will... Or maybe... it had everything to do with Will. Suddenly, she remembered Will. Remembered Will!... How could she... Why... she opened her eyes, and stared around unseeingly. What was she doing here? Maybe she should not have come here at all. It was a mistake. She should not have... She should not... And not even because of her... Or Will... But because of Jack... And just to think that she had thought for a moment that she was doing him a favor!... As if he would need her. This girl or another... As if it mattered... Well, actually it did. Perhaps he would not wish to spend a night with his murderess. It had never crossed her mind until now that he simply might not _want _to have anything to do with her after that. Before that... Or after... If he only knew...

Elizabeth closed the medallion in her hand, and stared at the ground. She just had to make sure that he will treat her warning about the mutiny seriously. That he will watch out for Barbossa. And then she will leave...

Leave... Live...

She closed her eyes, the tears all of a sudden flowing down her cheeks despite her efforts to keep them under her eyelids.

"Lizzie?" Elizabeth opened her eyes abruptly. Jack stood before her, looking at her anxiously. His face twitched at the sight of her face, and the tears. The tears again. "Lizzie", he repeated with a hint of helplessness in his voice.

"Are you alright?", she asked quietly, looking him over. His shirt was darkened by the smoke, and a part of his sleeve was ripped.

"Me?", he smiled faintly with a glimpse of amusement in his eyes, cupping her face in his hands.

"You're hurt!", exclaimed Elizabeth with a grimace spotting a small burn on his hand in the place where the sleeve was torn.

"I'm perfectly fine, luv", replied Jack with a chuckle, pulling her into his arms with great urgency. "An' it's rather ye who's hurt", he muttered wrapping his arms around her tightly.

Elizabeth closed her eyes, and snuggled her face into his chest. She cried silently, the tears escaping from her closed eyes, and streaming down her face; warm and bitter; and completely useless.

"I will miss you", she whispered, pressing herself closer to him, trying to carve in her body's memory the warmth of his body, the rhythm of his beating heart, the sound of his voice...

Jack smiled, resting his chin on the top of her head. "Me too", he said almost inaudibly, trying to estimate how long will it take him to sail to Isla the Muerta and back...

Elizabeth opened her eyes. "You do remember what I told you?", she asked seriously.

Jack blinked. _Ah._ "Aye", he said, frowning slightly. "So ye're certain, lu-"

"You don't believe me?", asked Elizabeth drawing back, and looking at him searchingly.

"I do", he answered quickly with all sincerity. "But I just think that ye might have... misunderstood somethin', luv."

Elizabeth's eyes widened. He did not believe her. That is... he did believe her, he just did not believe _that_. _Oh Jack._

"Jack", she started frustratingly, but he silenced her with a kiss.

"Ye worry 'bout me too much, Lizzie. I'm Captain Jack Sparrow. I'll be fine", he whispered, smirking roguishly, and kissing her again, before she got a chance to disagree.

She wanted to push him away, but the feelings that his kisses evoked were stronger than her will, her wishes; stronger than her. She returned the kiss, kissing him hungrily, kissing him... for the last time.

_I killed him._

She kissed him harder, just to deafen that sentence reverberating in her head. He entangled his fingers in her hair, pulling her as close as possible.

Two hours. She had two hours more yet, but the longer she was kissing him, the less she felt herself capable of enduring it. All of a sudden she felt that if she will not leave now, she will never leave...

She broke the kiss abruptly, and stared at him with such a terrified expression on her face, that Jack's eyes widened in astonishment, as he tried to understand what could have possibly frightened her so.

"Lizzie...", he started, and trailed off, when she quickly stuffed his coat, his hat, and his effects back into his hands.

"I'm sorry", she whispered. "I'm sorry", she repeated, her eyes shimmering with tears. "You are a good man, Jack", she said, putting a hand to his cheek.

"Lizzie-", Jack wrinkled his forehead in bewilderment, studying her face anxiously. Maybe she was even more ill that he had thought...

"Please", she cut in, putting her other hand to his other cheek. "_Do_ think about what I told you." She held his gaze for a moment before continuing. "Oh God", she winced, and pressed her lips to his in a brief, ardent kiss.

She stepped backwards, and looked at him for a moment intensely, and he stared back at her, both enchanted by how beautiful she looked despite the tears streaming down her face, and frightened by her strangely feverish behaviour. And when he wanted to reach for her, and try to calm her down once again, she rendered him speechless by whispering one simple sentence...

"I love you", she said so quietly, so softly, that he was not sure that she had said it at all.

And then... she turned around, and ran away.

Jack stood motionlessly, staring after her, baffled, dazed, and vexed beyond comprehension.

"Bugger", he muttered at last, recovering from shock, and starting after her.

It was dark, but luckily her light blue dress made it easy for him to follow her through the crowd. As he ran after her, he tried to make sense of the situation, but to no avail. He tried to put the pieces together, but together... they just did not fit. If she loved him, why was she running away? Loved him. He snorted. How could she love him? Yet, it might have explained why she had kissed him... But... He groaned angrily, getting lost in his confusing reasoning. There was no time for thinking. She was a bloody fast runner.

He followed her to the port, and then he saw her running across the beach towards the ocean. He quickly scanned the shore, but in the direction in which she was running, there was no ship in sight. Mumbling under his breath, he ran faster, when it suddenly dawned on him what she was up to.

"Bloody hell", he muttered disbelievingly, watching her getting closer and closer to the sea. "Lizzie no!", he shouted, running as fast as he could and finally reaching her just when she was already ankle deep in water. He threw his coat and the rest of what he was carrying to the sand, and grabbed her by the shoulders. "What the hell are ye doin'?", he almost screamed at her, and Elizabeth blinked both astonished by the fact that he had followed her, and also by the fact that he screamed at her like that.

She held the medallion in her hand, ready to throw it into the ocean as Tia Dalma had ordered her to do, but Jack's grip was so strong that she could not even move.

"Let me go, I have to go", she whispered urgently, trying to snatch herself away from his embrace, his eyes fixed on her, making her nearly unable to avert her eyes, and leave... Leave him... Leave the sight of him... leave the feeling that his eyes were stirring somewhere inside of her. She did not even know why had she said that she loved him... It scared her. It had scared her when she had said it, and it was scaring her now, because the more she thought about it, the longer she looked at him, the more true it seemed (although it was, it could not be true...), the more real... Even though it was not real...

_Because I killed him._

And nothing was real... anymore. There was no going back... anymore. But she had to go back... despite the fact that she had nothing to go back to, except the sense of guilt that would haunt her forever. The sense of guilt, and...

_How could I have missed that?... _

"I have to go", repeated Elizabeth almost inaudibly, shaking herself off her reverie, and trying to slip out of his embrace, but he wrapped his arms around her so tightly, that she had no way of running away from him at the moment.

"What are you doin'?! What the hell are ye doin' girl? Let ye go?!", he exclaimed with a grimace. "'Course I'll let ye go. This instant. An' then I'll just stand here an' watch ye drown yerself. Is that it? Grand idea, but unfortunately I don't think I'm goin' to do this", he said hurriedly through his gritted teeth, the anger in his voice interlaced with genuine worry, and strangely nervous anxiety.

Elizabeth blinked, the medallion almost slipping out of her hand, but she caught it in the last moment. Two hours... The thin strip of silver glittering in the moonlight... _Drown?... _She scolded herself inwardly. Of course. What else could he have thought seeing her running straight into the ocean?

"Jack, I'm not-", she tried to argue, but he cut her off.

"I don't know what haunts ye", he said in a low and serious tone of voice, looking at her intensely. "If ye don't want to tell me... Or maybe ye did, but I just... don't understand somehow", he knitted his eyebrows, and shook her lightly. "It's just not the way of solvin' problems. It doesn't solve any. It just cuts all the hope off."

"I cut it off already", broke in Elizabeth in a faltering whisper.

Jack sighed. "As long as-"

She put her hand over his mouth, and whispered. "Let me go, please. I know what I'm doing."

He smirked brokenly. "I don't think so", he said, tightening his already steel-like embrace.

"Jack-", she started, and cringed at the sudden feeling of something being pulled out of her hand...

The medallion.

She averted her eyes from Jack, and saw two small boys running away and laughing. One of them was swinging the necklace with the medallion in his hand. And she had no idea how had they managed to come so close unnoticed, but she imagined that her and Jack were just too deeply engaged in the conversation.

"Jack! They stole it! It's mine, I have to...", she whispered nervously, trying to loosen his grip around her.

Jack looked over his arm, his first impulse being to chase the little thieves and get Elizabeth's necklace back, but that would require leaving her alone, and he did not trust her one bit that she would not drown herself while he would be running after some stolen jewelry.

"I'm sorry, I can't leave ye", he said turning back to her.

Elizabeth stared at him terrified, desperately trying to break free. "Jack! I have to get it back!", she shouted.

He looked at her hesitantly for a moment, but he must have eventually decided that she was really very serious about the matter, because at last he agreed on running after the children... together.

Luckily, they were still on the beach, throwing the medallion to each other, apparently enjoying the beautiful, silver glitter of it shining in the moonlight.

"Ye two!", called Jack, catching one of the boys by his shirt, but he immediately threw the medallion to his friend. Jack let go of the boy, sending him to the sand, and reached for the other one, but before he managed to snatch the medallion out of the boy's hand, he, to Elizabeth's absolute dismay... threw the medallion as far away as he could... into the ocean. Jack glared at the boy.

Elizabeth gasped. So it was over. That was it. And she even gave up two hours that she had left. She closed her eyes expecting-

A loud scream made her open her eyes abruptly. She looked confused at the boy that Jack had earlier thrown on the sand. The boy had a look of horror on his face. Elizabeth looked at Jack, and to her surprise she saw that he did not look much better than the kid...

"Jack?", she began hesitantly. He stared before him, blinking. His hand, the one with which he had held the little thief, still outstretched before him...

And then she noticed. The boy was not there anymore.

"What's happened?", she asked uncertainly, cold shivers running up her spine at the sudden suspicion.

"I wish I knew", answered Jack, glancing around in bafflement.

The boy that was sitting terrified on the sand quickly leaped to his feet, and ran away as fast as he could.

"Jack?", whispered Elizabeth, looking at him expectantly.

"He disappeared", said Jack plainly, still staring at the spot where the boy was just a moment ago.

"Disappeared", echoed Elizabeth, her mind racing.

"Aye, he just-" Jack stopped in mid-sentence, as the realization suddenly struck him. The boy disappeared. The boy disappeared after having thrown the medallion into the ocean.

_Lizzie's medallion._

Jack shifted his eyes to Elizabeth.

"Is there something ye would wish to tell me, luv?", he asked, looking at her intently.


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: _**Thank you so much for all the amazing reviews!**_

Disclaimer: Jack, Elizabeth, etc. belong to Disney.

**Chapter 7**

Elizabeth stared at Jack wide-eyed, trying both to understand what had happened, and to come up with some kind of suitable and diplomatic answer to his question.

"No. Why?", she whispered at last, attempting to sound clueless (not that she was not very much clueless at the moment anyway). Hurriedly, she tried to sort out her thoughts, and think of something credible to say.

The medallion had been thrown into the ocean, and somehow it was the person who had thrown it, and not her that had disappeared... But what did that mean? Did that mean that the task was completed? That the medallion had to be returned, as if, and it did not matter who had done it, and therefore she was safe... she was... free. Free (or bound) to stay here, stay in the past? Unlikely. Since she already _was _here. She quickly calculated the time. If it was just before the mutiny... And Jack was tracking the _Pearl_ after it had been comm- _stolen_ by Barbossa for ten years... And then a year had passed before Beckett had interrupted her and Will's wedding...

Will!...

_No time to think about Will right now_, she snapped to herself impatiently, immediately feeling guilty about making such a remark.

"Lizzie...", Jack placed his hands on her shoulders, and gently, but decidedly pulled her towards him, and somehow the image of Will floated away from her like a cloud on a windy day.

"How old are you?", blurted out Elizabeth, suddenly struck by an idea. It had interested her ever since, but she knew that he would not have ever told her the truth... in the future. But now, perhaps, he might. She travelled back for eleven years. Eleven years... So she was now... ten!... She was ten years old, and she was still living in England.

But if she was now living in England... How could she stay here? She could not simultaneously live in Tortuga as a one and twenty-year old girl, and in London as a ten-year old child. At least not for long... That was perhaps why she had been given only those nine hours which would not have caused any commotion in the order of the universe... But... what would happen if she would not go back... at all?

Jack blinked. The question about his age had thrown him slightly out of balance. Not because he had any problems with answering it, but because it was seemingly totally unrelated to their current discussion. But why did he exactly expect her to be logical? He had been given many hints about her not being logical in general...

"Does me age have anythin' to do with the fact that the kid disappeared after havin' thrown _yer_ necklace into the ocean, luv?", he asked pointedly, studying her face intently, and trying to focus on the conversation, and not at her disturbing proximity, at the feeling of her breath brushing against his face, at the feeling of her skin under his hands, separated from his touch only by the thin layer of the light blue fabric of her dress. (And they had already been _past_ the getting-rid-of-the-dress stage once... _Bugger._)

...For a moment he quite seriously considered leaving the discussion aside, and having his way with her at this very moment, at this very sand, at this very now. He took a deep breath, and tried to calm down. Why was she having that bloody, unaccountable for before, effect on him?

"No, but I just... It just crossed my mind...", answered Elizabeth with a faint, nervous smile, thinking that perhaps it was not such a bad idea to try and change the topic altogether. She needed some time to think, to decide what she should do. Will she die? Will she die in these two hours? She shivered. So many ideas were flashing across her mind, that she could not properly concentrate on one single train of thought.

If she was living in England now... If she was ten... Elizabeth's eyes widened. "My mother is alive", she whispered, her eyes staring absently into the distance, past Jack.

Jack looked at her uncertainly, becoming more and more worried... First she had asked him about his age...and now she was talking about her mother... She was clearly making less and less sense. Which was not good... although... adorable.

He snorted to himself, refocusing on the problem of a person _literally disappearing_ in front of him. It was not a hallucination. One moment the kid was there, and a moment later he wasn't.

Jack groaned inwardly, finding himself all of a sudden doubting that it had really happened. How could a person possibly disappear? It was neither possible, nor probable, yet, it was exactly what had happened. Because it had happened. It was what he had seen. At least... it was what he thought he had seen. _Bugger._ And yet, why should a disappearance of one person be any more less probable that getting a ship raised from the depths in exchange for a soul? _Bugger_. _That _was certainly what he was _not _inclined to think about _at all_.

"I'm glad that yer mom is alright, Lizzie", he said after clearing his throat (and his mind from superfluous thoughts). "An' as for me age I'm three an' twenty, although it hardly seems relevant... at the moment", he said with a slight frown, sliding his arms around her waist, and pulling her closer. She was too deep in thought to protest, and he was not sure whether she had even heard his answer. He looked at her interestedly, quite content with the fact that he could at least hold her in an embrace once again. "Ye're so beautiful", he whispered nigh unconsciously, suddenly realizing that he was beginning to make no sense himself.

Jack's remark snapped Elizabeth back into the reality, and she blinked, darting her eyes to him, and only then noticing how close they were. His arms wrapped around her, their faces almost touching, their eyes locked. She blushed, not really knowing why all the thoughts were suddenly evaporating from her consciousness, and he could not remember what it was that she had been thinking of just a moment ago...

"Jack...", she started quietly, noticing a very alarming look in his eyes, his dark, mesmerizing eyes glittering in the moonlight.

He gazed at her intensely for a while, his eyes wandering all over her face, his embrace tightening, making her tremble. And when his eyelids fell over the transfixing blackness of his eyes, and his lips claimed hers, she had a transient feeling of absolute bliss drowning her, dragging her into some magical dimension where nothing mattered, where nothing was necessary except for him, for him not to let her go, not to stop kissing her, caressing her, running his fingers through her hair, pulling her with him down onto the sand.

"Jack", she gasped, when he at last released her lips from the bruising kiss, and stared down at her, breathing raggedly.

"Are ye... are ye a dream?", he asked in a husky voice, and she smiled, but then realized, judging from his facial expression that his question was seemingly serious.

She bit her lip, and cupped his face in her hands. "Are you?", she whispered shakily, with a broken smile.

"'Cause if ye're a dream... I don't want to wake up", he said in a low voice.

Elizabeth's face twitched, and a few tears escaped her eyes, flowing sideways and falling onto the sand. "Neither do I", she whispered in a quivering voice, brushing her thumbs over his lips. "Neither do I", she repeated almost inaudibly against his lips hovering over hers, and soon claiming hers with ardent passion that quickly deprived the reality, the time, and everything else of any importance.

* * *

"Ah", Tia Dalma smiled contentedly when, to Will's bewilderment, a beautiful necklace, with black and silver medallion suddenly appeared as if out of nowhere, and floated in the air right in front of them. Tia Dalma reached for the medallion, and looked at Will with a soft smile. "She's back even earlier", she whispered, and looked straight ahead, scrutinizing the air.

Will wrinkled his forehead with scepticism, but followed Tia Dalma's gaze, although nothing seemed to be happening. He looked at Elizabeth who was lying on deck as motionlessly as before. He sighed audibly, but Tia Dalma silenced him with a wave of her hand, turning to look at Elizabeth intently. Will glanced at Tia Dalma grimly, and was about to point out that, in fact, nothing was happening, when, all of a sudden a flash of light crossed the sky, and then, again seemingly out of nowhere, as if from the air itself, a person fell to the deck with a thud.

Tia Dalma blinked, turned around, and... stared at a boy, about six- or seven-year old, who was sitting on deck with the most terrified expression on his face, looking at her and Will fearfully with wide eyes.

"I- I- I didn't- I-", the boy stammered in a faltering voice, nervously shaking his head. "I didn't want to- I didn't mean to- We didn't want to steal it- I- I- We- We just wanted t'play with it- We didn't want to steal it!", he exclaimed at last in a desperate tone of voice, looking around frustratedly.

Will glanced at Tia Dalma questioningly. She looked at the boy, her eyebrows knitted, and her facial expression far from comforting. She squinted, and then glanced at Elizabeth.

"What is going on?", asked Will after waiting patiently for a few moments for Tia Dalma to explain the situation, which she, however, did not seem willing to do.

"Did ye get it from 'er?", she asked approaching the boy, who nervously backed away from her.

The boy swallowed, and looked in the direction in which Tia Dalma was pointing, and nodded quickly.

"Yes?", she pressed, and the boy nodded again. "Did she give it to ye?", she asked after a moment of consideration, squinting.

The boy shifted his eyes between her, Will, and Elizabeth, and then shook his head. "But we didn't want to steal it!", he added hurriedly, tears welling up in his eyes.

"What is going on? What does it have to do with Elizabeth?", inquired Will with growing impatience. And anxiety.

"But ye did steal it, after all", said Tia Dalma, looking at the boy a bit less sternly, but searchingly nonetheless, completely ignoring Will's question.

"No!", the boy exclaimed feverishly. "They were cuddlin' an' all, an' we thought they won't notice if we take it t'play with it for a while", he explained hurriedly with all sincerity, the tears running down his cheeks, as he furtively glanced around, as if trying to see where he was, and whether it was possible to escape.

Will's eyes widened as the boy's words registered in his head. "They?", he echoed in a metallic voice, but the boy's eyes were fixed on Tia Dalma at the moment, and he seemed not to hear Will's inquiry. "Cuddling?", he whispered incredulously, more to himself than to anybody else. He blinked, and then darted his eyes to Tia Dalma. "Where is Elizabeth?", he asked in a loud, demanding voice.

The boy cringed, shifting his terrified gaze to Will, little relieved that the man seemed to be angry with the strange-looking woman rather than with him.

Tia Dalma stood with her eyes fixed on the horizon, deep in thought. "She's in the past", she said at last in low voice, shifting her eyes to meet Will's expectant gaze.

"What?", Will grimaced, and looked at her with utter disbelief, which slowly faded into the feeling of dismay, as he was beginning to understand, if only vaguely what was going on.

* * *

"So ye don't know why that kid disappeared, do ye, luv?", asked Jack tentatively, running his hand up and down Elizabeth's arm.

Elizabeth snuggled closer to him as they lay on the sand in a tight embrace. "No", she whispered, avoiding his eyes.

Was it not awful of her to fear death right now? After he had killed him, now she was worrying about her own life. It was almost disgusting, and she tried to push that selfish thought away. Even if it was really going to happen, even if she would die within two hours, it will only be the most deserved death imaginable. Nothing to think about.

Unless... she wanted to think about what she would like to do with two last hours of her life...

"Where did ye get that medallion from, luv?" Jack's voice sent a strangely pleasurable shiver up her spine. And she had a vague idea as to what exactly she might like to be doing with the time that was left to her...

Curiosity.

Or something else... something more...

Two hours.

Or less. They had been kissing madly for quite a long time, so she perhaps had even less time than those two hours already...

"It was a gift", answered Elizabeth cryptically, closing her eyes, and just enjoying the warmth of his body next to hers, feeling a twinge of cold pain at the memory of his cold lips-

_I killed him._

"A gift?", Jack wrinkled his forehead. "Who fr-"

"Hold me", she interrupted him in a faltering voice, and he quickly looked at her, but she was not crying, she was just staring somewhere into the distance, her face pale, or maybe it was just the moonlight that cast such a strange, ghost-like shadow over her features. "Hold me, Jack."

Wordlessly, he wrapped his other arm around her, and pulled her close, watching with wonder as she nestled her head into his chest, as if she was trying to hide. _What are ye hidin' from, Lizzie? _He kissed the top of her head, and buried his face in her hair.

He knew that scent... There was something familiar about it, although he was unable to tell whether it was really familiar, or perhaps he just wished it to be familiar...

"_I love you." _He blinked. She had said that... She had said she loved him... Had she meant that?...

And he did not know whether he was more taken aback by the words itself, by the fact that _she _had said them, or perhaps by the sudden realization that nobody had ever said those words to him before...

* * *

"I sent 'er back in time", said Tia Dalma, looking at Will unblinkingly, with a glimpse of mute, grim warning in her eyes, which kept Will from interrupting. "She was deep in sorrow after we'd found Jack Sparrow dead, an' I offered 'er a chance to go back in time for nine hours to see 'im, an' quieten 'er soul. Before the nine hours would pass, she was to return this medallion into the ocean, an' come back-"

"She is... with Jack?", cut in Will, as if he did not care much about the rest of Tia Dalma's stunning explanation.

Tia Dalma was about to answer, but then Will's facial expression hardened, and he turned abruptly towards the boy who sat quietly on the deck too scared to move.

"What did you say they were doing?", he asked in a tone of voice which must have frightened the boy, who glanced at Tia Dalma as if in search of assistance, but she was looking at the medallion at the moment, oblivious to his help-seeking gaze.

"Cuddlin'", answered the boy, turning his eyes back to Will.

"Ye're not envious of a dead man, William Turner, are ye?", broke in Tia Dalma in a sharp tone of voice, darting her eyes to Will.

Will narrowed his eyes, but said nothing. After all, she was right. Jack Sparrow was-

"Yes?", asked Tia Dalma impatiently, and Will looked up noticing Ragetti who suddenly approached them with a rather sheepish expression on his face.

"I was... I was...", started Ragetti uncertainly, shifting his eyes between Tia Dalma and Will, and glancing at the boy with a glimpse of surprise in his eyes, which however vanished quickly, apparently fading in comparison with whatever he was struggling to say.

"Yes?", repeated Tia Dalma through her gritted teeth, with a hint of annoyance in her voice.

"I was... takin' the maps from the Cap'n's Quarters, an'...", he paused, and swallowed.

"And?", cut in Will, not very eager himself to be listening to Ragetti's superfluously prolonged stammering.

"An' I... I saw...", he took a deep breath. "Cap'n Sparrow..."

Will blinked, a cold shiver running up his spine as a strange premonition crossed his mind, and he was almost, _almost _not at all surprised, when Ragetti at last finished his sentence:

"He... he...", Ragetti took a deep breath. "He... moved."


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: _**Thank you so much for all the wonderful reviews!**_

Disclaimer: POTC belong to Disney. And the story about the moon belongs to... Aztecs:)

**Chapter 8**

Tia Dalma stormed into the Captain's Quarters, followed by Will, Ragetti, Pintel, and everybody else who had seen them heading below deck in such a great hurry and was curious as to the reason of the commotion.

Jack lay where they had placed him – on his bed. He was not moving, at least not at first sight... His eyes were closed, and he still looked very pale.

Tia Dalma approached the bed, and narrowed her eyes. Lowering her head over his, she stared intently into his face, but there was no indication-

She blinked, and drew back, looking at him with stern astonishment.

Will, Pintel, Ragetti, and several more crew members peered into the side cabin interestedly, but no one dared to ask about anything. They waited patiently until Tia Dalma came back into the main cabin with an unreadable facial expression.

"He's breathing", she said plainly, and walked past them towards the door.

Will looked after her, and then glanced at Jack, grim thoughts invading his mind all of a sudden. He had not wished him to be dead, yet now, under the present circumstances, he felt oddly uncomfortable (to say the least) knowing that he was alive.

"What is goin' on in here?", Barbossa's husky voice broke into the silence that had fallen among the pirates astonished by the news. He walked into the Captain's Quarters and looked around.

"Cap'n's alive!", exclaimed Ragetti happily, his enthusiasm quickly spoiled both by the pain caused by Pintel, who poked him in the ribs, and by the look in Barbossa's eyes.

Barbossa scanned the faces of all the crew members present, and then slowly walked a few steps forward, and looked into the cabin that Jack was in. Then he turned around, and looked at the crew again. Sluggishly walking towards them, he stopped in front of Ragetti, who blinked nervously. Barbossa took out his pistol and put it to Ragetti's wooden eye, causing him to stop blinking. Pintel swallowed.

"I am the Captain of this ship", said Barbossa in a low tone of voice, squinting.

"He knows that", cut in Pintel with an apologetic smile. "He just meant that ye're alive."

Ragetti glanced at Pintel, who poked him again, and after a moment Ragetti got the hint, and nodded enthusiastically.

Barbossa rolled his eyes, put down his pistol, and walked up to Will.

"What kind of nonsense is that?", he asked him, glancing over his shoulder at the side cabin.

"Ask your rescueress", answered Will drily, turning away from him, and heading out of the cabin with the intention of asking Tia Dalma some important questions himself as well.

* * *

"Jack?", whispered Elizabeth in a muffled voice, her face still nestled into Jack's chest, and she felt both guilty and transfixed by the sensation that his closeness evoked in her.

He was not Will. He was not her fiance. He was... Jack.

And she had killed him.

"Aye, luv?", he hugged her close, and looked at her tilting his head to the side. It was so strange, and completely new... He had just spend at least an hour lying on a beach with a girl, with a beautiful girl that he had wanted to ravish since she had pressed those enticing lips to his in the tavern, and yet he was still lying here, doing nothing apart from holding her, looking at her, and kissing her (at least they were doing _that_, or else he would have surely gone insane) from time to time... And yet he had never felt so _happy_ before. Even though 'happy' was such a silly word... But somehow it perfectly expressed his state of mind at the moment.

And she had said that she- He scolded himself inwardly. He really should stop thinking about _that_. Maybe if he would ask her... But, somehow, he simply did not feel like confronting her about that... Maybe she had just said it... accidentally, as if... Maybe she had not meant it... at all?... Oddly, he wished that she had meant it... if only a little...

"Why are there those curious shadows on the moon?", asked Elizabeth quietly, pronouncing every word distinctly, and lifting her hand, to trace the shadows with her finger. She felt as if she could stay like that, in his arms, forever, and the thought made her heart clench.

There was no forever. There was no time anymore. It was already gone, that moment, shackled to the past, to the future. Lost.

Jack blinked, and followed her gaze fixed on the silver moon above them.

Shadows. On the moon. Do pirates talk about moons and shadows? Somehow he felt that he was the wrong person to be asked such questions, and yet he found himself answering:

"Well", Jack cleared his throat. "That shadow over there", he waved his hand in the direction of the moon. "the most visible one", he paused, as Elizabeth snuggled closer to him, placing her head more comfortably on his chest to have a better view on the sky. Jack tightened his embrace around her and draped his other arm over her waist. "So", he continued, "that shadow is the mark left by a rabbit."

Elizabeth shifted her eyes to him. "A rabbit", she echoed, trying to guess whether he was making fun of her or not.

"Aye", confirmed Jack. "A long time ago somebody got a tad bit angry an' threw a rabbit at the moon. It hit the moon an' left that mark."

So he _was _making fun of her.

Elizabeth propped herself on an elbow, and leaned down towards Jack, looking him intently in the eyes.

Jack blinked. "What is it, luv?", he asked innocently.

"You don't expect me to believe that, do you?", she asked quietly, with a glimpse of amusement flashing in her eyes.

Jack's eyes widened. "Why not? It's what I heard. Not sure myself if it's true, but-"

Elizabeth silenced him with a kiss, and he smiled. "Tell me more", she whispered, and he cupped her face in his hands. "Tell me the whole story", she added smilingly, turning her head right and left to quickly kiss both his hands.

"Aye, but maybe", he lifted his head to meet her lips once again, "we could continue the story-tellin' an' such somewhere else?", he proposed in a low voice, playing with her hair that were falling in loose strands over his chest, while her face hovered just a few inches above his.

"Where?", she asked, wondering how much time she had left. An hour maybe, until...

Will she really die? It seemed so improbable, so strange... Or maybe nothing will happen... Furtively, she rather hoped that nothing would happen, but she could not be sure... What if she really only had an hour left?

"Would ye like to see me ship, luv?"

Elizabeth smiled radiantly and nodded.

* * *

"How do we bring Elizabeth back?", asked Will gloomily, with a hint of sharpness in his voice, watching Tia Dalma perusing through her trunk, and taking different, weird items out of it, and throwing them to the floor.

"First I need to determine when an' where in the past she exactly is", answered Tia Dalma grimly, without looking at him.

"You don't know to which moment in the past you sent her?", asked Will incredulously, wrinkling his forehead in angry disbelief.

Tia Dalma ignored him, and carefully took a globe made of black glass out of the trunk. She rose to her feet, and carried the globe to the table.

"Bring that boy here", she said, regarding the black globe intently with her eyes narrowed.

Will sighed in exasperation, but decided not to argue with Tia Dalma at that point. Yet.

* * *

"She's very... enchanting", said Elizabeth quietly, trying to smile, and suppress the tears that were welling up in her eyes at the sight of the ship that carried so many different memories.

"Aye", Jack smiled complacently, and Elizabeth at last managed to smile at him as well at the adorable hint of pride in his voice. "That's me ship."

Adorable. She blinked. Since when she was finding him adorable?...

And she blinked again at the realization. Since... always?...

"Come on, luv", he took her hand in his, and led her across the gangplank on the deck of the _Black Pearl_. The deck was empty, most of the crew being in town, and only a few people were left to mind the ship, but they were nowhere in sight at the moment.

Elizabeth looked around. The memories of the last time when she was on the _Pearl_ flooded over her, and for a moment she felt as if she was drowning.

Subconsciously, she squeezed Jack's hand, and he squeezed her hand in response. Elizabeth looked at him thinking that he had squeezed her hand first, and smiled, and he smiled as well. They stopped in their tracks, not even knowing that they did, and stared at each other, until some wave, stronger than others, shook the ship slightly, shaking them out of their reveries.

Jack smirked, and pulled Elizabeth with him, heading below deck. She dropped her gaze to the floor as they walked down the corridor toward the Captain's Quarters, feeling guilty...

"_How can I trust you?"_

"_You can't"_

...and happy.

Jack opened the door, bowed slightly, and waved his hand in the form of a courtly welcoming gesture. Elizabeth giggled, and walked inside, feeling a shiver running up her spine at the sound of the door being closed _and _locked behind her. She wanted to turn around, but before she did that, Jack's arm was already wrapped around her waist, his other hand gently brushing her hair out of the way, and his lips trailing kisses on the back of her neck.

"Why somebody would throw a rabbit at the moon?", asked Elizabeth quietly, closing her eyes, and tilting her head to the side. She needed to concentrate on something else to keep herself from thinking about how wrong she was acting and whom she was now betraying. Even though it probably would not matter if she was really going to die within the next hour. Still, there was a chance that she would not die, and then...

"'Cause it was too bright", whispered Jack, slowly turning her around in his arms until she was facing him. He smiled.

Elizabeth's eyes snapped open. "Too bright?", she asked, blinking.

"Aye", he smirked and drew his hand across her face causing her eyes to flutter close again.

_Just a mere touch... And it never felt like that with-_

"Somebody got angry with the moon because she was too bright?", she inquired in a soft whisper, trying to focus.

"Aye", muttered Jack, kissing the corner of her mouth, and there was something in his voice that made her think that he was not paying any attention to what she was saying... But the impression she had got was apparently wrong, because he continued. "Too bright, and she... came too late."

"Too late?", Elizabeth's eyes widened, and she subconsciously wrapped her arms around him to keep herself from falling. But it were not his words that were making her feel so helpless, but that excruciatingly light kisses with which his lips seemed to be tracing the contour of her face.

"The gods wanted the world to go on", he whispered in her ear, his hands already maneuvering with the straps on the back of her dress, and she heard a faint call of warning somewhere in the back of her head, but it was so faint... so distant... so... colorless, that one syllable uttered by those lips that were now kissing her neck, seemed louder than any warning voices. "But there was no sun. An' for the world to go on there needed to be a sun", continued Jack, his whisper becoming hoarser, and she suddenly could feel his hands on the bare skin of her back. "So a sacrifice was made for the sun to come, but it did not come, and so they waited..."

He pulled back, and looked at her, holding her face in his hands. And it crossed her mind that she should find something that contained the word 'no' to say, but somehow, she could not say anything, she could not say anything at all.

"They waited", repeated Jack smilingly, and brushed his lips against hers. "And waited...", he gently picked her up, and carried her in his arms to the adjacent small cabin, where he sat her down on the bed, and she just stared at him, hypnotized, and half-consciously angry with herself for her inaction. But somehow she did not feel capable of doing anything else at the moment. "And waited...", he pulled th dress down her shoulders, and she propped herself on her elbows to help him take it off completely, and she watched a ghost of a smile flickering across his lips at that. Or maybe not at that... Maybe rather at that silly look that she must have had on her face, when he pulled his shirt over his head, and knelt in front of her, taking her boots off her feet.

"Did it come... at last?", she managed to ask, feeling compelled to say something, _anything_, to break that spell that he was placing upon her, little by little; that spell that she had _murdered_ before she had even allowed herself to really acknowledge it...

"Aye, it did", he breathed more than said, pulling her with him further onto the bed. "But when the sun came at last, the moon also came with it."

Elizabeth blinked, all of a sudden finding herself actually interested in the story. Or maybe in his eyes... She was not sure... Especially when he somehow managed to at last separate her from her undergarments... which joined her dress, which was out of reach already.

She blushed and gasped, and did some nervous gesture in an abrupt attempt to cover herself, but he caught her wrists, and gently drew her hands away from her body, shushing her, even though she had not said a word.

"Ye're the most beautiful girl in the world, luv", he said in a voice so serious that it almost scared her. He cupped her face in his hands, and looked her deeply in the eyes, before capturing her lips in a gentle, ardent kiss.

She broke the kiss and shook her head lightly. "No, I'm not", she whispered, and Jack frowned.

"Lizzie" he said with a hint of a threat in his voice, pulling her close, and kissing her feverishly. "I couldn't have even imagined a more beautiful girl than ye."

Elizabeth smiled brokenly, wrapping his arms around his neck. Suddenly, she just wanted to be close to him, as close as possible, because then nothing mattered, nothing else was important, and she wanted, she needed to forget about everything else, about everybody else, about every memory that was haunting her. At least for a little while.

She slowly ran her hands across his chest, and he entangled his fingers in her hair, pulling her into a kiss. "And what's happened next?", she asked breathlessly, slowly falling onto her back. "When the moon came along with the sun?"

He smiled, and brushed his fingertips across her lips. "The gods thought the moon too bold in her brightness, so one of the gods threw that rabbit at her", said Jack under his breath, staring at Elizabeth intensely, and for some reason his gaze made her yet more nervous.

"They were afraid of the brightness?", she asked, trembling, and trying to block the overpowering realization of their bodies touching in the most unimaginable way that she could... or rather could not even imagine... How could she... be letting it happen... How-

Her thoughts flashed across her mind and vanished.

"They were afraid that she'd overshadow the sun", replied Jack with a roguish smile, kissing across her collarbones.

"But... but the sun shines during the day, and the moon at night", she answered, her voice faltering and barely audible.

He smiled, drew back, and got rid of his breeches. She closed her eyes, and let her head fall onto the pillows.

"Aye. That'd be how the things were settled", he whispered, and she opened her eyes to see his face hovering over hers.

She opened her mouth to ask about something yet, but he placed his finger across her lips, and shook his head, his perfectly dark eyes glimmering in the imperfect darkness. "That's only a tale, luv", he said under his breath, pressing his lips to hers. She wrapped her arms around him, and kissed him back passionately.

He broke the kiss, and whispered, before kissing her again: "An' I want to tell ye a _fairy_ tale."


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: _**Thank you so much for all the beautiful reviews:)**_

Disclaimer: I don't own Jack, Elizabeth, etc. I don't even own Koehler (whose name I found in the CotBP script:)

**Chapter 9**

Tia Dalma sat at the table staring into the black globe which gave out a faint, hazy light. The little boy sat at the chair nearby, gazing at the globe with fascination. He had calmed down as soon as he had noticed that nobody was going to hurt him, or even punish him for stealing the medallion... The strange-looking lady was only asking him some questions, but unfortunately he was unable to answer most of them. He just knew that he lived in Tortuga, but he did not know _when_ he lived (well, he hardly even understood the question itself), and that seemed to upset the lady.

"Is there a point to this?", asked Barbossa with slight impatience, after looking at the black globe for several minutes of heavy silence.

"We have to know where Elizabeth is", answered Will grimly without tearing his gaze off the globe. "To bring her back."

Barbossa sighed audibly. "I'd be more interested in discoverin' why people who were dead are apparently not dead anymore", observed Barbossa drily.

"Astonishing, that you should be the one complaining about that", retorted Will in a low tone of voice.

Barbossa narrowed his eyes at him, and huffed in annoyance. "Can't ye just send the whelp", he gestured toward the little boy, "back to whenever 'e came from, set the medallion for several hours once again, an' the problem be solved?", Barbossa addressed Tia Dalma in the most patient voice that he could muster at the moment.

Will shifted his eyes to Tia Dalma. The advise seemed reasonable. Tia Dalma, however, appeared to be rather annoyed by, or at least disinterested in all the advisory voices. She had explained to Will, Gibbs and Barbossa what had exactly happened, why she had sent Elizabeth into the past, and how was she supposed get back. She had also explained to them that it was apparently the boy who had accidentally thrown the medallion into the ocean, and therefore he, and not Elizabeth travelled back to the future.

Now all that Tia Dalma had to do was to determine at which point of the past Elizabeth was, and then she could send the boy back to his times with the medallion and additional amount of time for Elizabeth to come back.

But there was something disturbing about the situation, something that she had not mention to the crew. It was the fact that Elizabeth's not coming back had coincided oddly with Jack's coming back to life. Because he had really been dead, she was sure of that. She would not have sent Elizabeth into the past, if he hadn't. It would have been to risky, and it might have caused trouble... And now, he was alive, and Elizabeth was still in the past, although, fortunately, she did not know that Jack was not dead. And she certainly should not be informed about that.

* * *

The rays of sunlight shone through the thin curtains brightening the cabin. She could almost feel the light lying softly on her eyelids, and although she had woken up, she was reluctant to open her eyes. It felt so wonderful, so strangely wonderful to only _feel_ the light, _feel _the morning instead of seeing it.

The morning.

Elizabeth's eyes snapped open. Light. Daylight. The night was over. _The _hour was certainly over, and she was still alive. Apparently.

She almost smiled at the thought, but then a sudden wave of breathtaking trepidation washed over her, and she sat up in the bed abruptly.

In the bed. In... Jack's bed.

"_A fairy tale?", she questioned._

_He only smiled in response, and kissed her, his hands caressing her, making her feel like she had never thought possible to feel, making her feel perfectly free, irreplaceable, beautiful..._

_He whispered her name, over and over again, and at some point she was not sure that it was her name anymore... She had no name... She was only made out of those emotions and feelings coursing through her when he kissed every part of her body, every part... of her soul, and yet she knew that it was her name, because he was saying it... and it sounded more like a prayer, and not a name... not a name at all... And she felt worshipped by his words... and his hands... his kisses... And she knew that she was shaking, and she wanted to stop shaking, but it was as if her body had a mind on its own. She wrapped her arms around Jack to let him know that she was not afraid... of him... of anything, it was just that she trembled, her body trembled, and she could not stop it..._

"_Lizzie", he whispered, and her eyes focused on him, his face an inch above hers, and she could feel his breath on her face, and her eyes fluttered shut, but she made an effort to open them again._

_She did not answer. She could not answer. She wanted to, but somehow the words were somewhere where she could not reach them... And somehow he seemed to understand that._

"_It's alright, Lizzie-luv. I'm here", he whispered, a trace of a smirk flickering across his face, as he had probably guessed that it was precisely the very reason of her nervousness._

_He kissed her, gently at first, and then more passionately, and it surprised her that the kiss had actually helped her calm down and stop shaking. She placed her hands on his shoulders, and he looked her deeply in the eyes, when they were both fighting for breath._

_She stared into his eyes with fascination, mesmerized by the fire in his eyes, his brown orbs blackened by darkness, or lust, she could not tell._

_He brushed his lips along her jawline, and then returned to her lips, claiming them with impatience, savouring the taste of her lips..._

_And then, when she was so dazed from the kiss, that she almost could not hear and see anything anymore, he broke the kiss, and whispered against her lips:_

"_Just dig yer nails in me back as hard as ye wish, luv."_

_Puzzled, she wanted to ask him why would she-_

_But then everything fell apart, the world around her, the thoughts in her head, the hesitation in her mind, the sense of guilt in her heart... The time dissolved into thousands of tiny silvery stars which danced behind her closed eyelids and washed over her body, and they hurt at first, as if they were more like sharp icicles, and she unconsciously dug her nails into his back as he had told her to do, and then the stars warmed up, and flood over her like beautiful, melting snowflakes, filling her, at the same time with fiery bliss and soothingly cool tranquility._

Elizabeth gasped and looked around wide-eyed, her absent gaze suddenly registering that she was alone in the cabin. He had gone. Where?

She put her head in her hands, and closed her eyes. Her eyes... She could still feel his lips kissing her tears away...

She hugged herself, dismayed. What had she done? And why did she feel so wrongly wonderful thinking about it...

Throwing herself back down onto the pillows, Elizabeth opened her eyes and stared toward the small cabin window, breathing raggedly as her mind, despite her efforts to stop it, kept reliving the last night's moments...

But suddenly she winced, the sense of guilt waking up from its comatose state, and breaking through the transfixing memories. Not only had she betrayed Will, but she had also betrayed herself. She had given herself away, she had given every part, every inch of her body, of her mind,

of her heart

away... And he even was not there when she had woken up. Maybe if she could have woken up in his arms...

She shivered at the memory, terrified just by how much she wanted to just be in his arms again... To be so close to him again. Because that was the most beautiful part of what had happened last night. The closeness. Being so close to him, with him. Together, inseparable...

But apparently he did not care... anymore. What had she expected? It was just a night for him... A night... a girl... Maybe he was waiting right now in the adjacent cabin for her to wake up, so he could tell her to leave his ship as soon as possib-

His ship.

Elizabeth blinked. She had almost forgotten. She was on the _Black Pearl_.

And it took her several more moments to realize, that the way in which the ship was rocking was not the way in which ships rock when they are docked.

She blinked again.

The _Black Pearl_ was at sea.

_She _was at sea.

* * *

Walking across the deck Jack had an impression that everybody knew what was going on, even though he was certain that no one knew. Especially, that even he was not sure if he himself knew...

But when he had woken up with her in his arms, he was more than certain that he was not able to leave her behind for several weeks, maybe even months, all alone in that blasted town where so many bad things could happen to her... Yet another reason was that she might get sad again, and what if she would try to kill herself again? She could drown herself without anybody even noticing it. And it was just the risk that he could not, that he definitely did not want to take.

He took over the helm, and trying to concentrate on the ship and on the journey before them, he watched the crew preparing to set sail. But the images flashing across his mind kept interrupting his train of reasonable thought, and all he could think of was her...

"_A fairy tale?", she questioned, her beautiful hazel eyes wide-open, and he knew that she was only childishly procrastinating whatever she thought was going to happen._

_And he tried to calm her down, to make her feel safe and cherished. And God, she was beautiful. She was so beautiful that he had to calm himself down as well in order not to forget to be considerate..._

_He kissed her, and chanted her name, taking his time to learn by heart the map of her body, and she shivered, and he grinned against her skin, but then he noticed that her shivering was not just a simple response to his touch, but rather her response to the entire situation. _

"_Lizzie", he whispered, and her eyes darted to him, their faces almost touching, and he could feel her breath on his face as she struggled to keep her eyes focused on him._

_He looked at her as she looked back at him in silence. He felt like he should ask her whether she was sure... But he quickly shook the thought away, half-fearing that she might actually say that she was not sure..._

"_It's alright, Lizzie-luv. I'm here", he whispered, covering an inward snort at his so easily suppressed noble second thoughts with an outward smirk._

_Yet, when they kissed he felt no second thoughts running through her head... Or maybe he was just too overwhelmed by the feeling of her lips pressed against his to feel anything else..._

_And it was her, it was only her that he wanted to feel. She ran her hands all over his back, and then rested them on his shoulders. And she was not shaking anymore, even though she could hardly breath, and only then, seeing her fighting for air he realized that he could not breath himself either..._

_He stared into her hazel eyes, blackened by fear, or desire, he could not tell._

_He kissed her, to erase the fear, fuel the desire, but above all to distract her from the pain that was to come. And she looked so endearingly puzzled when he had asked her to dig her nails into his back... But then she did just that, and mighty hard too._

He ran his fingers along the spokes imagining that it was her... her trembling body under his fingertips... in his arms... underneath him... He smiled to himself, a half-puerile, half-arrogant smile. She was _his_ girl now. And she could not just run away from him.

Yet, perhaps he should ask her if she wanted to sail with him to retrieve some treasure of Spanish conquistadors... Perhaps she did not want to... Perhaps she did not fancy being hidden in his cabin for several weeks without the possibility to even get a breath of fresh air...

Jack sighed, and rubbed his forehead. If she was to stay, she must stay in his cabin. He did not want the crew to see her, or even know that she was there. Not that he suspected them of undertaking some violent actions... (A faint memory of what she had told him that she had heard flickered across his mind, but quickly faded away...) Still, it did go a bit against the equality on the ship and such... And he did not want to spoil the happy mood that was present on the ship right now due to the anticipated plunder. So...

"Captain!"

He looked up, a voice breaking through his thoughts from the real world.

"What is it?", he asked with a hint of annoyance in his voice.

"A kid ran across the gangplank when we were draggin' it back an' 'e says 'e wants t'speak... 'with a man with funny hair'", said Koehler with a grimace indicating that he was only repeating the kid's exact words.

Jack raised his eyebrows. "Brin' 'im here. We'll see what 'e wants", he said, waving his hand in the air with disinterest. "Funny hair", he pouted to himself. But then his eyes widened, as the boy was brought before him. "Thank ye", he said glancing at Koehler, who nodded and walked away. "Now", started Jack looking at the boy curiously. "That is a surprise."

The boy swallowed, and averted his eyes. "I'm just lookin' for that lady that was with ye, sir. I've got somethin' that's hers, I think", said the boy as politely as he could, looking around rather than at Jack.

"How polite of ye to say so, _sir_", retorted Jack with an artificial smile, scolding himself inwardly for ever thinking that a person could simply disappear. Although he was certain that-

No. He was here now. Right in front of him. Was it not good enough evidence that he had _not_ disappeared?

"Can I speak to 'er?", asked the boy, growing nervous. He still had a fresh memory of throwing the medallion into the sea, and then suddenly everything had gone black, and he had felt as if he was flying through the darkness, through a very long, very dark, and very cold tunnel until at last he had fallen... And there were some people on some ship, and a strange lady among them... And it was the strange lady that had ordered him to give the medallion back to the girl from whom he had stolen it... She had told him that the girl will probably be with the same man that he had seen her before, and that he should look for a ship with black sails... And so he did. And he just wanted to get rid of that medallion and go home.

"How did ye run away that fast?", asked Jack, his curiosity taking the better of him.

The boy blinked. The strange lady forbade him to tell them anything, apart from one short sentence intended for the girl.

Jack wrinkled his forehead. The boy blinked again.

"Alright", said Jack at last, losing patience, and having no time for pointless discussions with taciturn children. "Ye can give it back to me, an' I'll give it back to 'er, aye?", he extended his hand towards the boy, who took a step backwards, looking slightly confused.

The strange lady had told him to give the medallion to the girl, but... Did it really matter that much? He really did not want to have that medallion with him anymore. And the man with funny hair was saying that he will give it to the girl...

"Here", said the boy after the moment of consideration handing Jack the medallion. It was almost completely black, except for a small silver part which glittered in the sun. "An'..." Jack shifted his eyes from the medallion to the boy. "Tell 'er that she has _three hours_", said the boy distinctly, but hurriedly, and then spun around and ran away, but apparently not as fast as before, since now Jack could easily follow his _gradually _disappearing figure.

_Three hours? Three hours of what? _Jack looked at the medallion curiously, but then shrugged his shoulders and pocketed the necklace. He smiled at the thought that Elizabeth will be probably very glad to get it back.

The gangplank was taken aboard, the anchor was aweigh, the sails unfurled. Jack smiled as the ship slowly made her way across the ocean, leaving the shore and Tortuga behind. He was content to be at sea again, at sea and on another adventure, about to seize the mysterious treasure of Cortez.

He smiled even more remembering the treasure in his cabin. He did feel a bit uneasy about not asking her... But it was too late now. They set sail. They were at sea.


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: _**Thank you so much for all the awesome reviews!**_

Disclaimer: I don't own POTC.

**Chapter 10**

Elizabeth sat in the bed, still pondering the odd realization that they were at sea, when the cabin's door slowly opened, and Jack cautiously walked inside. He noiselessly closed the door behind him with his foot, turned around, and only then noticed that Elizabeth was awake. Giving a half-surprised, half-cheerful 'ah', he smiled at her, put a tray that he was carrying on the cabinet, and quickly slumped down onto the bed beside her.

Elizabeth stared at him wide-eyed, astonished at her strange inability to even utter a word. Her heart was all of a sudden racing again at the mere sight of him, and it did not help her to calm down when he, as soon as he had sat near her, pulled her into an embrace, and kissed her ardently.

"Good mornin', luv", he whispered, breaking the kiss, and resting his forehead against hers. "I thought ye wouldn't be awake yet-"

She did not open her eyes, but slowly draped her arms around his neck, and kissed him before he managed to finish his sentence.

Habitually, it crossed her mind that she should not have been doing that... but she dismissed the thought quickly. She needed to be near him, right now, immediately, as close to him as possible. He kissed her back, and slid his arms around her, running his hands across the bare skin of her back, the bed cover in which she had wrapped herself falling down, leaving her almost completely naked in his arms, but she did not care. In order to fix it, she would have to break the kiss, and that was not possible. His lips tasted of everything that she had dreamt of: the cool sea, the fiery love, the perilous adventure, the rum... Well. She had not dreamt of rum, but it seemed that Captain Jack Sparrow went with rum in one package, as it were, so if she was going to have one, she also had to accept the other.

"That's what... I call... a proper mornin'... greetin'", grinned Jack, fighting for breath, and slowly sifting Elizabeth's hair through his fingers.

Elizabeth opened her eyes, and smiled at him weakly, resting her head on his shoulder. "When I woke up, and you weren't here...", she started quietly.

"I know, I'm sorry, luv", Jack grimaced slightly, and tightened his embrace around her. "I had to take care of me ship, set sail, all that, ye kno-", he trailed off, remembering that he had not told her yet that they were at sea already.

"I know", cut in Elizabeth in a soft whisper, finding herself nuzzling Jack's neck, but stopping abruptly, suddenly terrified by just how natural it felt to be with him, while she should rather feel awkward. And guilty.

And she did feel guilty. A bit. But she probably should feel _more _guilty. Although it was difficult to feel guilty in his arms, receiving the pleasant warmth radiating from his body, being enveloped by his intoxicating scent, the scent of a man to whom she belonged-

Elizabeth's eyes widened at her own thoughts. It seemed, that she could not think straight anymore. Everything seemed so unreal. Was it a dream? Maybe it was a dream, after all. Maybe it had never happened.

...And even if it had happened... he was dead. He was dead, because she had killed him. He was dead...

Elizabeth snuggled closer to Jack, pressing her lips to his neck, and kissing him repeatedly.

The taste of his skin... _Oh God, I'm going mad..._

He drew back a little, and gently cupped her face in his hands, and for a moment just looked at her, at her gold-brown hair in slight disarray falling over her shoulders, at her hazel eyes shimmering with some unidentified emotions, at her trembling, luscious lips.

"Lizzie...", he murmured, brushing his lips against hers so lightly that she could barely feel it. "If ye're not a dream, ye must be at least an angel."

"No, I'm not", she said quietly in a quivering voice. "I'm a _horrible_ person."

Jack tilted his head backwards, and frowned at her (and at himself for putting her in her crying mood again, apparently). "Lizzie-"

"Jack-", she interrupted him, and put her hand over his mouth, but then the sound of the waves crashing against the ship suddenly reminded her where they were. "Jack, we are at sea!"

Jack widened his eyes at her briefly, unprepared for _that _sudden change of topic. "Well...", he cleared his throat.

"You left him in Tortuga, right?", she asked anxiously, hopefully, struck by the realization, that so far everything was happening _exactly _the way it was happening in the past, with only the small exception in the form of the insignificant addition of her presence.

"Whom?", asked Jack, baffled.

Elizabeth drew back, and stared at him wide-eyed. "He's aboard?", she asked disbelievingly, with a hint of accusation in her voice.

Jack blinked, and tried to rescue the bewildering situation by pulling Elizabeth into a kiss, but she resisted, clutching the bed cover to her chest.

"You said you believed me!", she exclaimed with a frown.

Jack's eyes widened even more. He had not heard her speaking in such a loud voice before. (Not that he had known her long enough to know everything about her...) And yet, that tone of her voice sounded oddly familiar...

"I do believe yer every word, luv", Jack reassured her firmly, having, however, no idea what she was talking about.

"So how come you didn't leave him in Tortuga!?" Her voice grew desperate, and Jack began to worry that she may start crying again, or perhaps (what would be even worse in the present circumstances, since he wanted to keep her presence on the ship secret) she may start shouting.

Not that she was not _almost_ shouting already...

"Lizzie", Jack put his hands on her shoulders, and carefully tried to pull her closer to him.

_To have her... To keep her close... To be with her... To have her near... Always... _He blinked, startled by his musings, but quickly refocused on the conversation.

"Jack, I told you what I had heard!", she exclaimed frustratingly. She was not crying, but she seemed to be fairly upset nonetheless...

And then it dawned on him, it dawned on him what she was referring to. She was referring to Hector Barbossa and the conversation that she had said she had overheard. About the... (He could hardly even pronounce the word in his imagination, it had such an odd ring to it...) ...mutiny?...

"Luv", he stroked her hair, and smiled. "Don't worry. I can take care of everythin'", he stated without any hesitation in his voice.

Elizabeth bit her lip, and sighed, and somehow the little gesture sent hot shivers up his spine, and he surprised her by unexpectedly crashing his lips against hers.

They fell onto the bed, and she wanted to protest, but had not enough strength to do anything else apart from kissing him back, clutching the fabric of his coat on his shoulders, and dragging him as close as possible with urgency that almost scared her.

And what scared her even more was the image of Will's face that suddenly sprung to her mind, and what he would think, say, _do_ if he saw her right now...

"Jack", she whispered, placing her hands on his chest, and trying to put some distance between them. "Please, stop", she pleaded, her hands sliding under his coat, and pushing it off his shoulders.

He broke the kiss, and grinned against her lips. "If ye want me to stop, luv, why are ye takin' me clothes off?", he asked amusedly.

Elizabeth cupped his face in her hands, too dazed from the kiss to quickly formulate a witty retort. "Jack, this is serious. I really heard-", she started in a quivering voice.

"I'm flattered that ye're worryin' 'bout me so much, luv", said Jack with a smirk never leaving his features, his eyes lighted with amusement. "But I may assure ye that-"

Elizabeth huffed in annoyance, and to Jack's ultimate surprise shoved him off not only herself, but the bed as well, and keeping the bed cover awkwardly wrapped around her, stepped on the floor, and stormed off the bedroom, and into the main cabin.

Jack shook his head, blinked several times, and putting his hand to his forehead, tried to understand what was going on, and, more importantly, whether he had not made _a_ mistake while assessing his bonny lass' personality...

He quickly leaped to his feet, went to the door, and peered into the main cabin. And he could not help but grin at the sight of Elizabeth pacing around the room, wrapped in a white blanket which, luckily for him, was not covering her very thoroughly.

Elizabeth crossed her arms over her chest to keep the blanket in place. She tried to come up with a solution, although she had no idea what could she possibly do. They were at sea, Barbossa was on board, and the mutiny was going to take place... She paused in her thoughts, trying to remember what Gibbs had said about the mutiny... When was it going to take place? She stopped in her tracks, and knitted her eyebrows together, irritated by her own thoughtlessness. She should remember _that_. How many days after leaving port? Two? Three?

Her face brightened up. Yes! Three! She remembered now. Three days after leaving port, Barbossa would ask Jack for the bearings, and the mutiny would take place at the following night.

"Lizzie..." Jack cautiously put his hands on her shoulders, and she turned around to face him. "What's wrong?", he asked curiously, narrowing his eyes, and studying her face with warm interest.

"Nothing", Elizabeth answered automatically, finding herself being dragged again into the mysterious depth of his dark, hypnotizing gaze.

"Seems like something to me", replied Jack with a small smirk tugging on his lips, and her eyes shifted involuntarily to his mouth, her mind replying his kisses in her imagination with frustrating diligence.

"I'm just...", she started quietly, subconsciously leaning forward.

Jack's smirk quickly transformed into a grin, as he slowly pulled her towards him, closing her in an embrace. "Ye're just stunning", he murmured smilingly, brushing his lips against hers.

"Jack...", she smiled, even though she really did not feel like smiling. But somehow he always managed to make her smile. He was the personification of joy. She giggled inwardly at the thought.

He slowly deepened the kiss, and she tilted her head to the side, her hands entangling in his dreadlocks, her soul drowning in the kiss, in him, in bliss, and despair... because of what could have been, but never will...

Why? Why had she dismissed that possibility even before it had even become real enough for her to grasp it? To try to grasp it... Or maybe she was only deceiving herself? It was not like he had ever really loved her... It was not that he loved her now... But it was so sweet, so frustratingly sweet to think that she could have had a life like that... On a ship... On the _Black Pearl_... In his arms...

They broke the kiss, and stared at each other wordlessly. Jack brought his hand to Elizabeth's face, and stroked her cheek with the back of his hand. She shivered, and he locked his arms around her, burying his face in her hair. She snuggled her face into his chest, and they stood silently, just holding each other, until Jack drew back at the alarming, and all too familiar quiet sound of Elizabeth crying. He propped her head with his hand, and was about to ask her what was wrong this time, but the knock on the door interrupted him.

"Who's there?", called Jack grumpily.

"It's me", answered somebody from the other side of the door.

Jack rolled his eyes. Was it somebody else, he could just tell him to go away.

"We have to get ye out of sight, luv", whispered Jack into Elizabeth's ear, his lips brushing lightly against her skin, and before she realized what she was doing, she turned her head, and pressed her lips against his in a hungry kiss, the tears drying out at an instant, the sadness that she had felt only a moment before disappearing, melting in the heat of the kiss.

And they kissed, despite the knocking that continued spoiling the atmosphere.

At last Elizabeth broke the kiss, and drew back, hardly keeping herself from laughing at the expression of genuine disappointment on Jack's face. "I'll be right there", she whispered softly, smiling against Jack's lips, and waving her hand in the direction of the side cabin's door. He frowned at the door, and nodded at her sadly. Elizabeth smirked, and leaned on his shoulder, brushing her lips against his ear: "Right on the bed", she whispered, and pulled back abruptly, before he managed to catch her and kiss her senseless, for he looked as if he was going to do just that.

Elizabeth smiled, bit her lip, and spun around, disappearing inside the bedroom, and closing the door quietly behind her. She leaned against the door, and covered her face with her hands, smiling, and blushing, and feeling utterly ridiculous.

And for a brief moment feeling as happy as she had never felt before.

* * *

Jack pouted, looking longingly at the door which had closed behind Elizabeth. He sighed unhappily, and reluctantly walked towards the door, opening it hastily.

"Ah, at last!", said Bill Turner with a small smile, and swiftly walked into the cabin.

Jack wrinkled his forehead, and kicked the door, causing it to slam shut loudly. "Aye. What is it?", he asked, glancing at the side cabin's door, and trying to block all those images that were invading his mind, making it virtually impossible for him to concentrate on something else.

"Oh, it's nothing", answered Bill Turner hurriedly.

Jack raised his eyebrows. "An' more specifically, what kind of _nothin'_ that'd be?"

Bill Turner smiled nervously, looking around the cabin uncertainly. "I was thinkin'...", he started, and looked up when a bottle of rum suddenly appeared in front of his face.

"For thinkin'", said Jack with a smile, handing the bottle to Bill, and pulling another one for himself from under his desk.

"Aye", Bill Turner nodded, and slumped into a chair.

"So, what's the trouble?", asked Jack grabbing a chair for himself, and sitting down as well.

"I was wonderin'... Is that treasure we're after worth a lot?", asked Bill, looking at the rum thoughtfully.

Jack sat back in his chair, and took a swig of rum from his bottle. "Aye. I believe so. An'-"

"I'm askin' 'cause", cut in Bill without waiting for Jack to ask him the question, "if me share was fair enough, I might... I could... I was thinkin'", he took a deep breath, and brought the rum to his lips, drinking the entire bottle in one swig.

Jack widened his eyes. "Yer thinkin' is awfully rum-consumin', mate", he observed with amusement.

Bill sighed, and shook his head, putting the empty bottle away. "I'm thinkin' 'bout quittin', Jack", he said in a low voice, staring at the floor.

Jack wrinkled his forehead, and tilted his head to the side, looking at Bill questioningly."Quittin' what?", he asked after a pause.

"Everythin'", replied Bill with a faint smile, glancing at Jack. "Piracy, me life, the sea... Well", he inhaled and exhaled deeply. "Me life at sea, not me life in general", he chuckled half-heartedly.

"An' what would make ye do that?", asked Jack cautiously, after a pause.

Bill looked up, and smiled weakly. "I'd like t'go back... Don't know for how long... For some time at least... But I think I should... I ought to... I shouldn't have left in the first place... Not so suddenly, at least... Or early... Or both... Or neither...", he ran his head across his forehead, and sighed. "I think I'll just get off in the first port after Isla de Muerta..."

Jack took a swig from his bottle, and squinted. "Unless ye dislike me ship...", he started, waiting for Bill to look up which he did. Jack smirked. "There's no reason not t'make a wee trip to ol' England after collectin' some ol' Spanish gold, aye?"

Bill Turner smiled.

"An' perhaps there's also no reason for ye not t'get yer boy onto the _Pearl_, but that's up to ye", added Jack with a smile.

"I think his mother would shoot me for even suggestin' that, but thank ye", answered Bill with a chuckle.

* * *

Behind the side cabin's door, Elizabeth slid to the floor, leaning her back against the wall. It was just impossible not to eavesdrop... She had been curious to find out who had come, and it was not until the end of the conversation, when it suddenly dawned on her that the man with whom Jack was speaking was, most probably, Will's father. It had never occurred to her before, and she had completely forgotten about that, about the fact that Bill Turner was on the _Black Pearl_.

And that he was going to die as well...

She slowly got off the floor, walked to the bed, and sat on the edge of it. Suddenly all the enthralling, transfixing, sweet emotions were gone, and she was once again left with the bitterness enveloping her, and making her feel cold, so very cold, so very guilty... Although Bill Turner's death was not (_will not be_) her fault...

She fell onto her back, and pulled Jack's coat which he had left on the bed from under her head, and hugged it to herself.

She closed her eyes, and for a moment just lie motionlessly inhaling his scent, and imagining how it would have been to be with him... forever. To live with him... To spend the rest of her life with him... Waking up to the sight of him...

She opened her eyes, and straightened up, brushing the tears away from her face with the back of her hand.

What was it? Why did it hurt that much? Was she really... falling in love with him?

She rose to her feet, and walked to the cabinet on which sat the tray that Jack had brought. Some bread, some cheese, water... and in the middle of the tray a fruit. Elizabeth bit her lip, even more tears welling up in her eyes when she tilted her head to the side, and looked at the yellow fruit cut in a half, and shaped clumsily into two not very evenly cut out hearts.

Falling in love? She snorted to herself sadly. As if she had not fallen in love with him already!... She had fallen in love with him the moment he had dragged her out of the water, and looked at her, and she had opened her eyes, the image of his face hovering over hers burned into her memory, her imagination, her heart; the water dripping on her face off his wet dreadlocks like the tears which were yet to come, the tears that she had brought upon herself...

She looked at his coat that she was holding in her hands, and grimaced. She tossed the coat onto the bed in frustration, and then she noticed that something slipped off the coat's pocket, some dark, round object, some... medallion?

She blinked, and slowly walked toward the bed, hardly believing her eyes. She reached for the medallion, and looked at it with both confusion and astonishment, the first words that he had ever spoken to her, flowing to her at this moment quite appropriately:

_Where did he get that?..._


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: _**Thank you so much for all the wonderful reviews!**_

Disclaimer: Disney owns POTC.

**Chapter 11**

"And?", Will raised his eyebrows, staring at Tia Dalma expectantly.

Barbossa chuckled. "Perhaps yer wife-to-be decided not to be yer wife", he said somewhat amused by the entire situation.

Will shot him a murderous look.

"Silence!", snapped Tia Dalma impatiently, looking intently at her black glass globe.

"Why is she not coming back?", asked Will irritatedly, turning away from Barbossa, and looking at Tia Dalma questioningly.

"Or perhaps the whelp stole the medallion, after all. Was quite foolish to trust 'im with that in the first place", observed Barbossa disinterestedly.

Will glanced at him, reluctantly admitting to himself that the idea seemed disturbingly plausible.

Tia Dalma stared at the globe with her eyes narrowed. There was only a quarter of an hour left, and after that...

She scolded herself inwardly for ever coming up with the idea of sending Elizabeth back in time. She should have known that the danger was too great, that she should not have risked bringing such perils upon the girl. And upon herself, for that matter too. Chronos, the god of time was not the one to be trifled with, but... She had just felt so sorry for the lass when they had found Jack Sparrow, a _dead _Jack Sparrow in the Locker.

And right now he was not even dead anymore!... He was merely unconscious. So there was really no reason for sending Elizabeth into the past. But it was too late now. She was in the past, and it seemed that she was not coming back. Either because of the blasted kid's negligence, or...

Tia Dalma squinted, and huffed in annoyance. Or because Elizabeth was doing something that she was not supposed to be doing. Which was more than likely, unfortunately. And Jack Sparrow's coming back to life was the best proof of that.

One thing that bothered her most, the one thing that Tia Dalma had not mentioned to anybody on board was that Jack's miraculous come back could have been caused by only one thing.

It could have been only caused by some changes being made in the past, by somebody playing with destiny, by somebody trying to change what must not be changed.

And yet it was strange, because she was certain that Elizabeth did not tell Jack anything about the future, or else she would see that in her globe. And yet, something was happening, something that was transforming the past; something that was putting the girl in danger.

If she was not to come back, the medallion would burst into a thousand of pieces which would fall over the Chronos' Palace signalling to him that somebody was interfering with the order of the world, and then...

And then he would send his messenger, to find out what was happening, and catch the thief who was trying to affect the course of history.

Chronos' herald... Tia Dalma stiffened at the thought. She looked at the black globe intently, as if hoping that she might drag Elizabeth back with her thoughts. She did not wish Elizabeth the grimmest of fates - the fate of the person who angered the god of time.

* * *

Elizabeth was lying on her side with her cheek pressed against the pillow, her eyes fixed on the medallion. It was almost completely black, the thin stripe of silver hardly perceivable. She wondered how had Jack got the medallion? And why he had not told her that he had got it back? And how could he have possibly got it back in the first place? 

Maybe that was why she had not died? Maybe it was only because the medallion was still here, even though it should not be here, and even more than that... She had certainly run out of time, so why there was still a strip of silver on the black plate?

"Ye didn't eat yer breakfast, luv."

Elizabeth's eyes widened at the sound of Jack's low voice whispering into her ear. He felt his arm encircling her waist from behind, and pulling her closer to him.

She wanted to reply, or at least ask him about the medallion immediately, but to her astonishment, the only word that escaped her lips was: "Jack..."

He grinned, and buried his face in her hair, pressing her closer against his chest, sliding his hand upwards from her waist, and successfully preventing her from making another attempt at asking him any questions.

Elizabeth's eyes fluttered shut, and she just reveled in the wonderful feeling of his lips trailing soft, delicate kisses along her neck. The feeling was indescribable, or rather – more likely – she was unable to describe it. She could not compare it to anything, that feeling of elation that was making her heart race, and her head spin; that terrifying feeling of sweet helplessness which she could not, and maybe even did not want to fight.

Keeping her eyes closed, she slowly turned around in his arms, careful not to let go of the bed cover in which she had wrapped herself. She subconsciously closed the medallion in one of her hands, while she entangled her other hand in his dreadlocks, pulling his head closer to hers. And a moment later his lips claimed hers passionately, and she returned the kiss with desperation which did not escape his notice.

"Lizzie...", he slowly broke the kiss, and looked at her intently. Her eyes were glassy, and for a moment he thought that she was going to cry, but before he managed to ask her what was wrong, she brought her hand to his face, and traced the contour of his lips with her fingertips, and somehow he forgot what he had wanted to ask.

"Jack", she said with a small, impish smile, snuggling closer to him. It felt safe to be in his arms. Safe and sweet. And when he wrapped his arms around her scooping her in his arms, and holding her even closer, she struggled not to burst out crying at her own thoughtlessness, stupidity, cruelty... She was not sure which one of these it really was anymore. She had once thought that it was bravery, that it was a mature calculation to rescue everybody, to rescue several people at the cost of one person's life. But even when she had come up with that explanation a long time ago, she had already known that it was not true. That it was a lie, the most terrible lie, the greatest lie of all.

And now she was lying in his arms, in the arms of the man whom she had killed, whom she _will kill_; in the arms of the man whom she had given everything she had, save her life, in the arms of the man whom she...

No. Even if... Even if she did, it did not matter. He was dead, and there was no future for them no matter how much she would wish to remake her choices...

Unless...

Elizabeth's eyes lit up, and then suddenly she remembered the medallion in her hand.

"Jack", she started, shifting in his arms, and trying to sit upright. "Where did you get that?", she inquired with slight confusion, showing him the necklace.

Jack looked at the medallion, and blinked, baffled, until he made an effort, and snapped himself back into the real world from the dreamland to which his mind always wandered when he held her in his arms (which baffled him even more, actually).

"Oh, this, aye", he said smiling complacently. "He brought it back", he explained plainly, straightening up as well.

"Who brought it back?", she asked in utter confusion, looking at him uncertainly.

Jack smiled, and tangled his hands into her gold brown, charmingly disarrayed hair. "That little vanishin' thief. Well, not really a thief, since he brought it back, an' not really vanishin' I guess either, since-"

"He brought it back?", Elizabeth interrupted him, her eyes widening.

"Aye", nodded Jack, slightly amused by Elizabeth's adorably astonished facial expression. "That's what I said", he smiled, leaning forward, and pressing his lips to hers. And for the first time he regretted that he had a ship to take care of, and that he had to take the helm, and leave her alone for several hours.

"Jack, Jack, wait", Elizabeth reluctantly broke the kiss, trying to concentrate. He pouted. She smiled. "Wait", she repeated in a softer voice, wrapping her arms around his neck. "First tell me how is it possible that he just brought it back? You said-"

"I know", cut in Jack with a shrug. "But I guess the kid is just a bloody fast runner", he smirked, pulling her closer, hoping that it was the end of that superfluous discussion.

"What did he say?", asked Elizabeth, looking at Jack intently, her eyes involuntarily shifting between his eyes, and his mouth.

_Why was I never that mad about Will? _The question floated to her unexpectedly, while she was telling herself off for thinking about kissing Jack even when she really had to concentrate on obtaining some important answers from him. Why was she never feeling like that with Will... The realization startled her, and frightened her, for some reason. She still had to go back, she still had to be with Will.

_I have to be with Will?... No, I want to be with Will. I want. I..._

"Ah!", Jack nodded, glad that she had reminded him. "Aye, he did say somethin', although it doesn't make much sense, an' I doubt-"

"What did he say?", Elizabeth cut him off with subconscious impatience, suddenly terrified.

Jack looked at her, a glimpse of alertness showing in his eyes, as it crossed his mind, not for the first time, that Elizabeth was hiding something, that she was not telling him something important. "He said", Jack paused, "that ye have three hours", he said, watching Elizabeth's facial expression closely, trying to catch a shadow of emotion which flickering across her face would inform him whether she knew what the boy's words meant, or not.

Elizabeth paled. "Three hours?", she whispered, and averted her eyes from him, looking around the room frustratedly.

Three hours? Why? How? She tried to understand, but did it even matter? Probably Tia Dalma had found the way to give her more time. So that was why she had not died... Maybe it would have been better if she had died... And now... Three hours... Which were almost over, judging from the look of the medallion. The silver stripe was so thin, that she most likely had only some minutes left...

Jack cupped Elizabeth face in his hands, and looked at her intensely. "Lizzie, tell me right now what is goin' on", he said in a concerned, but very serious tone of voice.

She darted her eyes to him, and bit her lip, holding back tears. "I can't", she said sincerely, staring at him unblinkingly, and feeling that if she blinked, the tears would just flow down her cheeks in torrents.

Jack wrinkled his forehead, and brought his face even closer to hers. "Lizzie, ye can tell me everythin', whatever it is. Ye can-"

"No, I can't!", exclaimed Elizabeth, breaking free from his embrace, and trying to get off the bed.

She scolded herself for her inability to remain calm. She should at least _appear _calm to him, and not let herself fall into some kind of hysteria, which must make her seem ridiculous to say the least. No wonder he had begun suspecting something.

Jack jumped to his feet at once, and grabbed her before she ran out of the cabin. "Lizzie..."

"Let me go", she whispered through the tears which began to flow, because she did not feel strong enough to hold them back any longer. "I have to get dressed, I have to go", she looked around the cabin, trying to locate her dress, which was not an easy thing to do with her eyes misty and full of tears.

"Ah no", Jack pulled her against his chest decidedly, wrapping his arms tightly around her. "I'm deeply sorry, but ye're not goin' anywhere, luv", he said firmly, ignoring her futile attempts to push him away. "First reason bein' that ye don't feel too fine, apparently", he said seriously, steadily returning her stern, if only pretendedly stern gaze. "Second reason bein' that, in fact, ye have nowhere to go since we're at sea", he paused, and smirked at her when she continued to struggle to break free from his embrace, but to no avail. "Third reason...", he propped her chin with his hand, and for a moment she stopped moving, and just looked at him wide-eyed, fresh tears still running down her cheeks. "Third reason bein' that I-", he trailed off, suddenly astonished by what he was actually going to say.

"That you what?", whispered Elizabeth, subconsciously leaning closer to him, and noticing in amazement that his mouth twitched, and that he looked rather nervous. Nervous. Jack. Jack Sparrow. Captain Jack Sparrow. Nervous.

He looked at her, briefly narrowing his eyes. "That I...", he looked at her, hesitating. It was not like he had ever said that before... And he did not really know how to say it. But looking deeply into her brown, glimmering eyes, he began to give in to the urge to tell her... Slowly, he was beginning to think that there was nothing wrong with saying it. After all it was what he was going to say, it was what he felt, and there was no reason to lie to her, and not tell her that he felt it, even if she did not feel it, although she had said earlier that she had, so maybe she still did, which was quite obvious in the light, or rather without the light... He suppressed a smirk, took a deep breath, and looked at her intently, anxiously.

Elizabeth studied his face in silence, trying to decipher his thoughts, which was an impossible task, but somehow, even knowing that, she could not help trying.

"ThatIloveye", he said so quickly that she was not sure if she had heard him correctly.

"What?", she asked quietly, staring at him in bewilderment.

Jack sighed, slightly annoyed by the necessity to say it again. Saying it once was hard enough. "I love ye, luv", he whispered almost inaudibly, resting his forehead against hers.

Elizabeth stared into his eyes, their faces so close that when they blinked, their eyelashes brushed against each other's.

"Jack", she whispered in a quivering voice, cupping the side of his face with her hand. "You can't, you... don't even know me."

Jack's lips stretched into a small, roguish smile. "I wouldn't exactly say that", he said with a glimpse of amusement in his eyes.

Elizabeth blinked, bit her bottom lip, and blushed. "I mean-"

"I know", he interrupted her, silencing her with a kiss, which she broke very quickly.

"I love you too", she whispered ardently, looking at him in dismay.

Jack grinned. "So much for not knowing each other", he said smilingly, gently stroking the side of her face with the back of his hand, hardly believing that she had really said that _again_, and utterly astonished by the effect that her words actually had on him. He felt as if he was manning the helm in the middle of a furious storm, the waves were high and angry, and yet he was breaking through them easily. And he could feel the wind and the rain on his face, and see the lightnings crossing the sky, the starry, beautiful sky, the sky shaken by thunders.

He pressed his lips against hers, and kissed her passionately, rapaciously, impatiently. Elizabeth wrapped her arms around Jack's neck tightly, the medallion still closed in her hand. Jack's hand sneaked under the bed cover in which Elizabeth was wrapped, when all of a sudden she screamed, breaking the kiss abruptly.

She pulled away, and Jack stared at her in stupefaction, breathing raggedly, and wondering-

When all of a sudden he noticed her hand. She held it in front of her, blood dripping from her palm.

"What's happened?", Jack quickly grabbed her arm, and motioned her towards the washbasin.

"I-I don't know", stammered Elizabeth, staring at her hand. "The medallion..."

Jack darted his eyes from her hand which he was cleaning by pouring the water over it to her face.

"What about it?"

"It... broke", said Elizabeth, looking over her shoulder at the floor, but somehow she could not spot anything.

"Broke?", Jack followed her gaze. "So...where is it?", he asked, wrinkling his forehead, and scanning the floor as well.

Elizabeth shook her head, and swallowed. "I don't know. It burst into pieces... in my hand... but then it just...", she shifted her eyes from the floor to him. "Disappeared..."

* * *

Tia Dalma leaped to her feet, and stormed away from the table with an irritated expression on her face. 

"What's happening?", asked Will with sharp anxiety audible in his voice, and visible in his eyes.

Tia Dalma paced around the cabin in silence, until at last she stopped, and spun around facing Will and Barbossa, who raised his eyebrows with mild interest.

"She's not come back", said Tia Dalma darkly.

Will wrinkled his forehead in slight confusion. "So when _will _she come back?"

Barbossa narrowed his eyes, and tilted his head to the side.

"She's not come back", repeated Tia Dalma coolly.

Barbossa snorted, and shook his head, glancing at the ceiling.

"What does it mean?", asked Will, feeling a cold wave of dismay washing over him.

"It means that either she didn't get the medallion back, or that she did get the medallion back, but decided not to come back", snapped Tia Dalma impatiently, changing her own anxiety into unjustified anger toward Will and his questions. "It means that she's still in the past."

Will ran his hand through his hair, an artificial, ironic, helpless smile flickering across his lips. "Decided not to come back? What is that supposed to mean? What is all of that supposed to mean? I want to know when will she be back", he said in a loud voice, glaring at Tia Dalma. "Maybe something happened to her? Maybe she had an accident?"

Barbossa chuckled, biting into an apple which he had produced from his pocket. "Aye. She might _accidentally_ decide not to come back", he observed with slight amusement.

Will shot him an irritated look, and this time Tia Dalma did exactly the same thing as he, perhaps annoyed herself by Barbossa's carefree remarks, while the situation was actually very serious.

"She's in the past, but do ye know exactly _when_ in the past she is?", she asked, squinting, and it took a prolonged moment of silence for Barbossa to realize, that the question was, in fact, addressed to him.

He looked up from his apple, and gave Tia Dalma a questioning look.

Tia Dalma smiled sourly. "She's in the year 1733", said Tia Dalma after a pause, finally deciding to tell them where and when Elizabeth was. She had not thought it important, and it would not have been important, if the girl had come back. But she hadn't.

Will wrinkled his forehead. Barbossa bit into his apple, and chewed the piece of fruit, staring thoughtfully into the distance, a small, sarcastic smile hovering over his lips.

But then, all of a sudden he stopped chewing, a smile disappearing from his face, as he slowly shifted his eyes to Tia Dalma who seemed to overtake his previous facial expression, and now she was giving him a small, ironic smile.

Will shifted his eyes between Tia Dalma and Barbossa.

"Before or after?", asked Barbossa, regaining his composure, and even attempting to sneer.

"Before or after what?", cut in Will, watching them suspiciously.

"Before", answered Tia Dalma, looking at Barbossa, and ignoring Will's question.

Barbossa snorted condescendingly, but there was also a visible shadow of annoyance in his eyes.

"Before what?", inquired Will impatiently.

"Before the mutiny", replied Tia Dalma in a low, firm tone of voice, darting her eyes to Will.

"What mutiny?"

Barbossa rolled his eyes. "An' what do ye thi-", he started irately, but then stopped abruptly, noticing Tia Dalma and Will not looking at him, but staring toward the door instead. And then his mind registered that the voice that had asked the last question was, in fact, not Will's voice. He narrowed his eyes, and slowly turned around to face the door. He snorted inwardly, his lips stretching into an artificial grin, as he said in a low and sour tone of voice:

"Welcome back to the merry world of the livin', Jack."


	12. Chapter 12

A/N: _**Thank you so much for all the amazing reviews:)**_

Disclaimer: Disney owns Jack, Elizabeth, etc.

**Chapter 12**

"Ah", Tia Dalma smiled. "Good to see ye awake." She shot a surreptitious, warning, silencing glances at Will and Barbossa, while walking towards Jack.

"Awake", echoed Jack, rubbing his forehead, still standing in the door, and leaning against the frame. It was quite of an effort for him to walk from his cabin all the way to this cabin from which he had heard the voices coming. He felt strangely weak, and exhausted. Not to mention his chaotic, multiple trains of thought, which made it fairly impossible for him to think clearly at the moment.

His thoughts, and his dreams. Those odd dreams with the memory of which he had woken up...

"What were ye talkin' 'bout?", asked Jack, but then closed his eyes, and waved his hand around in the air dismissively. "Wait. First: what are ye doin' here? No", he interrupted himself again, opened his eyes, and wrinkled his forehead. "_More_ first: where are ye? Me, that is. No. You. Us...", he added, almost as an afterthought, narrowing his suddenly concious eyes.

"_Me and you, you and I. Us."_

"We were just discussing how can we get out of this place", explained Tia Dalma calmly.

"The Locker", amended Barbossa with a sweetish smile, as if explaining something to a child.

Will said nothing, and he just eyed Jack suspiciously. The last, unresolved memory that he had of him up to this point was that _ridiculous_ kiss, and he still did not know what should he make out of it. During the journey to World's End Elizabeth was not particularly talkative, except for _"once we rescue Jack everything will be fine"_, which somehow was not making Will feel_ fine _at all. But then Jack was found dead in the Locker, and it all had not mattered anymore. Whatever had happened... And for whatever reason it had happened... It had not mattered. And even when he had found out about Tia Dalma sending Elizabeth into the past... It was still meaningless, he just had had to be patient, and it would have passed...

Only it had not passed, it did not pass, because Elizabeth was not coming back, and to finish the grim picture which began to vex him more and more, Jack had miraculously come back from the world of the dead. And although Will always wished everybody all the best, he had to admit that Jack's 'awakening' irritated him. He did not need him. He just needed the _Black Pearl _to rescue his father, and as for the Brethren, he was sure that Jack's piece of eight would do just fine even without its owner.

"I'm in the Locker", muttered Jack under his breath, with a hint of hesitation in his voice. He drew his hand across his face, and closed his eyes.

"_I'm not sorry."_

His eyes snapped open, and his mouth twitched. _Ah._

"Aye. We _all_ are in the Locker now, an' we're currently in the process of gettin' me- of gettin' the _Pearl_ out of this desert an' into the sea", said Barbossa with a sour smile.

Jack shifted his eyes to him, giving him a blank look.

It did not escaped Will's attention that Jack's eyes swept over him, deliberately avoiding any eye contact.

"_It's after you, not the ship."_

_No, really? I would've never bloody guessed that!..._

"Perhaps, ye should rest yet", observed Tia Dalma smilingly.

"Rest?", Jack darted his absent gaze to her. "No, thank ye. I'm bloody- I mean I'm fine", he said in a husky, exhausted whisper, subconsciously taking a look around the cabin.

"Are you looking for something?", asked Will all of a sudden in a cold tone of voice, surprising even himself that he had actually asked the question. He had not wanted to ask it, and yet it was almost as if the question had asked itself. Tia Dalma shot Will an annoyed look.

"_This is the only way, don't you see?"_

_An' what if I bloody don't!?_

"An' what if I bloody don't!?", shouted Jack, his eyes widening momentarily as soon as he realized that he had actually said it out loud.

Barbossa raised his eyebrows, stilling his movements for a second, his apple just an inch from his mouth. Will squinted.

"Bloody... am", corrected Jack in a softer voice, twitching his nose. "Aren't." He quickly scanned all the faces in the cabin.

Barbossa chuckled, and took a bite of his apple.

"So ye should rest", judged Tia Dalma with a patient smile, which appeared to Jack rather suspicious.

"_I'm not sorry."_

"Maybe", Jack narrowed his eyes, staring absently into the distance, and after a moment of consideration he turned around.

As soon as he left the cabin he stopped abruptly in his tracks.

"_I said I wasn't sorry. I was, I am, I'm very sorry, I'm so sorry, Jack!"_

He shook his head, and blinked several times. _Bloody great._

Now the only thing that he needed was having his memories mixed with some absurd, surreal, ridiculous dreams that he had been having while lying unconscious!...

* * *

"There", Jack tied a little bow with the straps of the cloth in which he had wrapped Elizabeth's injured hand, and smiled.

Elizabeth watched him with glassy eyes. The medallion was gone, and yet she was not dead... And somehow the idea of staying forever in the past did not scare her. It did not scare her at all, but on the contrary it was even making her heart flutter.

She tried to recall Tia Dalma's exact words, tried to remember what exactly she had said...

"_The 9th stroke of the 9th hour, and if you won't be back by that time, you'll die."_

"_Just like... that?"_

"_Chronos is a powerful and merciless god. You don't want to anger him."_

Elizabeth blinked. The nine hours had passed, and then also those three additional hours... And the medallion was gone altogether now... But although she was still alive, it did not really mean anything, did it? Tia Dalma had not said that she would die _immediately_. It was how she had understood her words at first, but, in fact, she had not exactly said that. She had just said that she _will _die. When and how... she had not explained...

"I will be back as soon as I can", Jack's voice shook Elizabeth off her reverie. He cupped her face in his hands, and smiled. "I'll lock the door from the outside. An' unfortunately I'm afraid that ye might have to stay in here for the entire time", said Jack, wincing slightly, anticipating some kind of disapproving reaction from Elizabeth. But, surprisingly, she did not seem to be upset. She just smiled faintly, and continued staring at him, and it crossed his mind that she was only half-listening, but perhaps it was even better that way. "Ye can do whatever ye want, luv", he went on. "Not that there's much to do in here, but... well, ye can rummage through all the drawers, maps, an' books", he paused, and squinted. "'Course it'd be better if ye could do all of that... quietly?", he smiled almost sheepishly, and somehow that kind of smile made Elizabeth laugh. She laughed, and then leaned forward, and kissed him.

"Alright", she whispered, surprised with herself, surprised just by how much she really did not care about anything else, but him at the moment. As long as he was going to be back, she could wait. She could wait doing nothing, she could just sit and wait and think about him... It was rather frightening.

Because it could not last, it was not real.

_Why couldn't it last? Why wasn't it real?_, she suddenly heard a voice in her head asking. Why indeed?

It was still before the mutiny, it was still before _everything_. It did not have to happen... If the medallion was gone anyway, what else did she have to lose? Whatever was going to happen to her could not be called off, so as long as she was here, as long as she was alive, as long as she was able to, she should try and do something.

She could not tell him anything about the past... Perhaps that condition was of no importance now too, since she could not come back... But no matter. She did not even have to tell him anything. All she had to do was make sure that the mutiny would not happen. Then, he would have no reason to come to Port Royal... And then-

She blinked, suddenly struck by an idea.

"Lizzie luv, are ye there?", Jack's amused voice resounded in her ears. She shivered, and looked at him.

"I-I'm sorry. I was just thinking-", she started with a small, uncertain smile.

"Ye worry 'bout that medallion, aye?", he asked in a low voice, knitting his eyebrows, and tucking loose strands of her hair behind her ear.

Elizabeth sighed. Yes, perhaps she at least _should_ worry about that. "Yes", she nodded hesitantly.

He looked at her for a moment thoughtfully. "Maybe...", he started, propping her chin with his hand, and looking her intently in the eyes. "Maybe when I come back later, ye could tell me-"

Elizabeth kissed him quickly, and rested her forehead against his. "It doesn't matter anymore", she whispered, wrapping her arms around his neck, and clinging to him as close as possible.

He slightly narrowed his eyes, worried himself. Was she hiding something? Or was she just... as he had suspected, a little... not _too_ sane? There were still these two possibilities, and neither did he really know which one he preferred, nor which one was actually true.

And yet the medallion seemed to disappear... Unless she cut her hand with it (accidentally or not...), and then hid it... somehow... Otherwise it was rather difficult to explain how it could have broken into pieces, into _invisible _pieces, apparently, since there was no sign of them in the cabin...

On the other hand he himself had quite recently believed that the boy who had stolen the medallion and then brought it back had disappeared...

Not that it was reliable evidence... Since who could guarantee that he was sane? Jack snorted at himself inwardly.

"Lizzie-", he tried, but she once again cut him off, this time kissing him deeply.

"Are ye goin' to do this every time I'll try to say somethin', luv?", asked Jack in an amused tone of voice, keeping his eyes closed, and smirking slightly.

Elizabeth smiled, ans brushed her lips against his. "Maybe", she whispered smilingly, and he opened his eyes, and smiled back at her.

Elizabeth closed her eyes, and rested her head on his shoulder. She had killed him, yes. But she did not have to kill him... The thought began to spin in her mind wildly, becoming more and more palpable. She could feel his body under her fingertips, his lips against hers, and there was no doubt that he was real, that _they _were real, that it was real, this moment, this day, this time of her life with him, and it did not matter when, at which point of the timeline this moment was located. What mattered was that this moment _was_, that _they were _now here together.

"Jack", Elizabeth broke another long, ardent kiss, and gently cupped his head in her hands.

"Lizzie", Jack smiled impishly, and tried to kiss her again, but she drew back with a chuckle.

"Jack, no, wait, listen", she smiled, and laughed, when he tightened his embrace around her, and began placing quick, feverish kisses all over her face and her neck. "Jack... I really... please... it's important... let me... let me tell you..." She gently pushed him away, capturing his head in her hands once again.

"What?", grumbled Jack with a pout.

Elizabeth bit her lip in order not to smile, and she collected all her strength to fight the urge to kiss him. "Do you remember what I told you?", she asked, trying to ignore his hands which were struggling to get rid of the bed cover in which she was wrapped.

Jack grinned. "'Course I do", he said complacently. Elizabeth smiled. "Ye said that ye love me", he added, and leaned forward.

Elizabeth's smiled vanished, and she put her hand over his mouth. "Not that", she frowned, looking at him intently.

Jack raised his eyebrows, putting on a very surprised facial expression, and for a moment Elizabeth was not sure if he was only pretending, or rather he really forgot what she had told him.

"Jack", she said seriously, knitting her eyebrows. "I'm talking about your first mate, and-", she said quietly, but distinctly, slightly gritting her teeth.

Jack grimaced, and sighed. "Oh, that again", he cut in almost disinterestedly, and Elizabeth's urge to kiss him suddenly changed into an urge to slap him.

How could he be that blind?! That careless?! No wonder the mutiny had happened, and from the look of it, it must have not even been particularly difficult for Barbossa to make it happen, and for some reason the idea really annoyed her.

"Is he your brother?", she asked irritatedly.

"What?!", exclaimed Jack in a high-pitched tone of voice.

"I don't know!", frowned Elizabeth, crossing her arms over her chest (accidentally just in time to keep the bed cover, which Jack had already untied, in place). "Why do you trust him that much?!"

"I don't trust him!", retorted Jack defensively. "That much", he added as an afterthought.

Elizabeth narrowed her eyes. "Can you just be more observant?", she asked, trying to regain her composure, thinking that he might have been slightly surprised by her outburst. In this reality she was behaving much nicer, she had to admit that, and therefore he might not be very used to her fiery temper.

Jack blinked having a strange impression that he was actually being given orders. "I guess I can", he said obediently after a pause, still astonished by the realization. And even more astonished that he really did not mind that. At least he did not mind that _too_ much.

"Good", Elizabeth gave him a small smile. "And as for that treasure that you're after...", she started hesitantly after a pause, not sure whether she should start that discussion just now. But she did not want to start it too late. "Have you heard about the curse?", she asked tentatively.

Jack's eyes widened. The girl was one walking surprise. A beautiful walking surprise.

"Aye, I did, but how do ye-", started Jack, looking at Elizabeth in wonder.

"And you just going to ignore it?", asked Elizabeth, annoyed.

Jack stared at her for a moment in bewilderment. "I wouldn't exactly put it that way, luv, but-"

He stopped in mid-sentence at the sound of loud knocking on the door. They locked eyes, and Jack swiftly pulled her in his arms. "We'll come back to this discussion later", he whispered into her ear, and kissed her softly on the lips.

Elizabeth sighed. "Just be careful", she said in a barely audible whisper, grabbing him by the shirt, and kissing him once again.

Jack grinned, flung his coat over his arms, and walked backwards towards the door, breaking the eye contact with her only when he was already outside of the cabin.

The door closed, and Elizabeth fell onto the bed with a sigh.

What was she doing? What was going to happen?

She turned on her right side, and snuggled her face into the pillow. It did not feel merely right to be here, it did not feel merely good... It felt as if there was simply no other choice, no other possibility than to be with him on the _Black Pearl_. And yet she had made it impossible in the future... She had destroyed that possibility...

Not that there had really ever been such a possibility... After all, Jack from the future was different... in some respects... He would have never told her that he loved her... If he could have ever even loved her at all... The eagerness to perform a marr-i-age was not equal with a love confession...

Elizabeth stared pensively into the distance.

And even that trifling kind of feeling that he might have had for her would have been certainly swept away but what she had done...

She closed her eyes, the tears welling up under her eyelids, escaping, and flowing down onto the pillow. Even if he would have been still alive.

But he was dead.

And yet there was hope. Elizabeth opened her eyes. There was hope, if only she could come up with a good plan to avoid the mutiny, and to make Jack abandon the journey to Isla de Muerta... Then they could just set to find the chest of Davy Jones...

Elizabeth rolled on her left side, and propped her head on her elbow. It was unfortunate that he had already made the deal with Davy Jones... But now they had time, they had plenty of time, and they could easily get the chest and make Jones-

She pressed her face into the pillow. Her imagination was running away with her. The medallion had disappeared, and she did not even know what it meant. And here she was: scheming and making grand and complicated plans.

_Pirate._

* * *

Jack was lying in his bed and staring at the ceiling. He would have gladly demanded an explanation why they had _really _come to the Locker to rescue him, what they had been _really_ talking about when he had entered the cabin, what was Barbossa _really_ doing here, and a dozen other questions, but unfortunately he just did not feel strong enough to do it right now. So he just followed Tia Dalma's advice, and decided to rest. A bit. Rest and try not to think whether _she _was here as well. She must have... But he had not seen her... Not that he wanted to see her (which he did not, he definitely had not, did not, would not, and will not want to see her).

"_You came back."_

Jack huffed in annoyance, rolled over, pressed his face into the pillow, and put another pillow on his head.

_Bloody shut it!..._

He grabbed another pillow and pressed it to his right ear.

"_Jack? Why are there those curious shadows on the moon?"_

He growled angrily, and stuck yet another pillow against his left ear.

It was definitely too much. Those irritating memories were bad enough, but what annoyed him most were those irrational figments of his imagination swirling in his mind, and throwing at him some utterly ridiculous, infuriating images which were worse than all the hallucinations that he had had at the beginning of his stay in the Locker. Hallucinations had felt at times painfully real, but there was always a perceivable shadow of artificiality in them. But in case of those strange thoughts there was no trace of artificiality. They did not feel artificial, they did not even feel like the products of his exhausted, imaginative mind.

What was particularly weird, was that odd quality which they possessed. They felt as if they were real. They felt as if they had really happened. They felt like...

Jack embraced all the pillows that he had put all around himself and grumbled irritatedly.

Those ridiculous _thoughts _actually felt like... (he snorted) memories.

* * *

"Your Majesty...", a tall figure emerged out of the shadows, and stepped forward into a thin stripe of light cast by the moonlight on the dark, shining floor. The man bowed his head slightly.

"It's raining", came a strong, monotonous voice from the darkened side of the large room.

"The black rain", said the man with a hint of a sneer in his low voice. "I have noticed. There is a _flaw_ in the stream of time."

"You do know what to do, then", came a blank response.

The man lifted his head, the moonlight illuminating his colorless eyes. "Locate the reason", he said with a smile. "And eliminate it."


	13. Chapter 13

A/N: _**Thank you so much for all the beautiful reviews!**_

Spoiler: ...& I do expect everybody to fall in love with Will after this chapter lol

Disclaimer: Jack, Elizabeth, etc. belong to Disney.

**Chapter 13**

"_Pirate", he smiled strangely, a mixture of pride and understanding carefully covering bitter regret, and disappointment twinkling in his eyes, his eyes shining unsmilingly, and even his smile slowly fading away from his lips as well, stopping half-way between a smirk and a grimace, as he fixed his eyes on her, watching closely all those contradictory emotions that flickered across her face. _

_She leaned forward, almost giving up, almost kissing him again, almost admitting that she had lied..._

_But she drew back. Stubborn, strong, beautiful girl. She would have made an excellent Pirate King._

_Unlike him; for he would have kissed her again. _

_She ran, and didn't look back, he saw her slowly disappearing figure lowering herself to the longboat. And she was gone. And that was it. What a good-bye. What a trick. He would have never guessed that, not in a thousand years, but then it was not the first time... But why she? Why it had to be her? To show him once again that there was nothing in this world important enough, worth risking or sacrificing your life for it. For her... He should have rowed away. That would have been better. That would have left him the illusion that he lost her because it was him who had made a selfish choice, because he was a self-centered, despicable bastard. And not because-_

_...and not because she loved somebody else. As simple as that. She just loved somebody-_

_He blinked. Was he hallucinating already? It was too early, he was not even in the Locker yet._

_Stupid inconsistency of dreams._

"_What the hell are ye doin'?", he stared at her as she ran back to him, and producing a key virtually out of nowhere, opened the handcuff, and took it off his wrist. He glanced at his wrist just to make sure that his hand was really freed._

_She lifted her eyes from the chain to his face, and smiled. "I'm so sorry, Jack. I didn't mean it", she whispered in a cracking voice, cupping his face in her hands._

_He looked at her, and wanted to ask her a million (or at least several) questions, but then he thought better of it, reminding himself that the bloody dream was probably going to be over soon, so he should not waste his time for pointless (not to mention that, in fact, unreal) conversations._

_Grabbing her around the waist, he roughly pulled her towards him, and crashed his lips against hers, her lips parting in a smile, her hands locking behind his neck._

_It crossed his mind that the beastie would soon start eating up the ship, and them – consequently – along with it. But who cared? He was probably going to wake up even before that, so he just concentrated on kissing her._

_Of course in the reality it was unacceptable. (Not to mention that in the reality she would not have come back, but that was a detail). In the reality he was not going to even look at her. He might shoot her. But that he could actually do without looking at her (...too much)._

_But here he was dreaming, and nobody would ever know. _

"_Lizzie...", he slid his hand underneath her shirt, and she shivered in his arms, whispering his name... (...not that she could really whisper anything, since they were still kissing passionately. Well. Fortunately dreams do not have to be logical.) _

_Without breaking the kiss even for a moment, he turned them around, and pressed her against the mast. (Still no beastie. Good. This is going to be original.) He caught the rim of her shirt between his fingers, and began pulling it up. Breaking the kiss, he threw her shirt to the deck, and looked at her. "My Lizzie.", he whispered leaning down, and kissing her neck. She smiled, and drew her hands across his bare chest (when had they got rid of his shirt? Oh, well, who cared), brushing her lips over the side of his face, and his ear, and he felt more than heard that she whispered something into his ear, but it took a moment until the words registered in his mind:_

"_Good-bye, Jack."_

_He drew back, and looked at her, puzzled, but then his eyes widened as her body slid down in his arms, and he tried to catch her so that she would not fall to the floor, but to his dismay he could not catch her, because she literally melted in his arms, and he fell to the deck and onto his knees, embracing the air, embracing nothing. She was gone._

_He stared at his empty hands in astonishment, when all of a sudden he heard laughter. Turning around he just caught a glimpse of a dark figure slowly fading away, unlike the laughter which continued reverberating in his head..._

Jack opened his eyes, and sat up in bed abruptly. He quickly glanced around the room, and then lie back down, breathing unevenly.

When they will get out of the Locker, the nightmares will end too. They will. They should. They bloody ought to.

He get out of the bed, and angrily throwing the bed covers away, he swiftly walked to the washbasin, took off his shirt and splashed the water over his chest, and over his back-

He hissed, and grimaced, suddenly feeling a stinging pain somewhere on his back. The pain was not particularly strong, but it was strong enough to attract his attention. He reached his hand over his shoulder in order to locate the reason of his discomfort, and simultaneously trying to recall getting a gash or something of the kind, but to no avail.

To his further puzzlement he felt several rather shallow scratches lined up on his back. He knitted his eyebrows, and ran his fingertips over the scratches, some thoughts floating to his mind as he slowly began remembering that he had gotten scratches like that in one of those dreams that he had had.

He snorted to himself, rummaged through his drawers, found a fresh shirt, and put it on.

Actually that dream in which he had acquired similar scratches was one of the best dreams that he had had so far. Smirking to himself, he reached for his hat, but then, suddenly his smile faded away from his face, and he froze, wrinkling his forehead in bewilderment, his eyes shifting warily right and left.

Even in a state of slight dizziness and confusion in which he seemed to be since his awakening, he was conscious enough to know that he was not supposed to have the scratches which he had acquired in a dream.

Jack rubbed his forehead, beginning to doubt whether he was actually awake. Perhaps he was still sleeping. Perhaps he was sleeping and dreaming about thinking that his dreams were not his dreams, even though they could not have possibly been anything else...

He shook his head, and hid his face in his hands, trying to think clearly, and refusing to believe that he was thinking clearly already. Once again, he reached over his shoulder, and slipping his hand under his shirt brushed his fingertips across the scratches on his skin, half-hoping that they were no longer there. But they were there. They were bloody there. _Bugger._

* * *

Elizabeth washed herself as good as she could having only a bowl of cold water at her disposal. She did not even have a brush, and she doubted if Jack had any, so she did not even bother searching his drawers.

She put on her blue dress, sat on the edge of the bed, and tried to brush her hair with her fingers.

She could still feel his hands on her hair, his breath on her neck, his skin pressed against hers, his lips brushing-

How could she ever get rid of that memory? If she was going to come back? How was she going to forget about that? How was she going to erase from her memory the tone of his voice whispering her name? The gentleness of his touch, the softness of his roughened lips, the warmth radiating from his body...

She closed her eyes, the memories engulfing her, bringing back all those unimaginable feelings which he had evoked in her, which she had never even suspected that they existed... She had imagined many times how it would have been like to be married... to be married... (and to be married to Will...) and yet now she thought that she had never _really_ imagined it... she had only thought that she had, but... how could she have really imagined something that she had known nothing about? And now that she knew... now that she knew how did it feel like to be in _his _arms, and feel loved, feel beautiful, feel irreplaceable... Now that he had said that he loved her...

Elizabeth smiled, the tears welling up in her eyes. Now that he was dead, because she had killed him, she deserved to be send back and live her life, her entire life with that burning sense of guilt tearing her apart. And yet she wished, secretly and passionately wished to stay here, stay in the past forever, even though somewhere deep inside she knew that it was not possible, that sooner or later something was going to happen, and she would be taken away from here. Dead or alive... And not that it really mattered which one of the two it was going to be... A part of her, that part of her that belonged to him would be dead anyway.

A part of her?... A part... No, not a part. More than a part. Much more than a part. Much more than she could have ever imagined possible...

"Ye look so beautiful when ye're thinkin', luv."

Elizabeth opened her eyes, only to close them again, as his lips gently captured hers in a soft kiss. "Who was it?", she asked with a faint smile, breaking the kiss, and cupping his face in her hands.

Jack shook his head dismissively. "Nothing important. But I got to go nonetheless", he said with a pout, which turned Elizabeth's smile into a grin. "Does it make ye happy, luv?", he asked wrinkling his forehead, and putting on a pretendedly hurt facial expression.

Elizabeth shook her head in passionate denial, her hair dancing around her head, and getting even more dishevelled than it was already. Jack pulled her into an embrace, and kissed her ardently, cutting off her attempts to say something.

They fell over onto the bed cuddling and kissing, and laughing, until Jack at last came to his senses realizing that they were probably making a lot of noise.

"I'm afraid we ought to be more quiet", he whispered against her lips, breaking the kiss.

"How much more quiet?", asked Elizabeth, trying to twirl one of his dreadlocks around her finger, but to no avail.

Jack smiled, and pressed his lips to hers. "A tad bit more quiet", he whispered, repeatedly placing soft, brief, quick kisses on her lips.

"A tad bit more quiet than quiet or more quiet than a tad bit more quiet than a tad bit more than quiet?", she inquired in a sweet voice, wrapping her arms around his neck, and pulling him into another kiss, which muffled his laughter.

"I can't even remember if I had lived before I met ye, Lizzie", he whispered seriously, when they broke apart, fighting for air.

Elizabeth smiled faintly, and slowly drew her hand across his face. "I hadn't", she whispered almost inaudibly, and for a moment they just stared at each other in perfectly beautiful silence.

"Jack", Elizabeth placed her hands on either side of his face, and looked at him intensely. "Don't give them the bearings", she said slowly.

Jack blinked, but restrained himself from smiling. He had recently decided that the best course of action would be just agreeing with her, and not trying to clarify everything that she was saying. "Yer wish is me command, luv", he stated solemnly.

Elizabeth groaned inwardly, the glimpse of amusement flickering in his eyes not escaping her attention. _Stubborn, disbelieving, bloody pirate!..._

He kissed her again, and staggered to his feet, pulling her with him. "I'll be back before ye'll have the time to reenact the last night's events in yer imagination, luv", he whispered, flashing her a roguish smile, and leaving the cabin before she had a chance to protest and assure him that she was _definitely not_ going to do such a thing.

...that is if she could help it, of course...

* * *

After ordering for Elizabeth to be moved from the upper deck back to one of the cabins, Tia Dalma warned Will, Barbossa, and Gibbs that they were not to talk to Jack about Elizabeth's time travels. She did not exactly explained why it was so important, but she seemed serious enough as not to be questioned any further on the subject.

She also promised Will to bring Elizabeth back. There was one last chance to do that before Chronos' herald would find her, which fortunately was going to take him some time. And according to Tia Dalma that amount of time was sufficient to drag Elizabeth back from the past. In order to do that, she would have to break her black glass globe. The trick could be done only once, as it would permanently destroy the globe (which Tia Dalma was very reluctant to do, but as the things were at the moment, there was no other way to save Elizabeth).

Will listened to Tia Dalma with a gloomy expression on his face, his eyes fixed on Elizabeth who was lying on the bed with a peaceful expression on her face, as if she was merely asleep. And he was relieved to see that she was not even so pale anymore.

Will did not like a single thing that Tia Dalma had said. Especially the part concerning Elizabeth being in danger, because of some herald who was supposedly sent by Chronos to track down the reason for a disrupted flow of time.

However, there was a certain part of the story, a certain aspect of it that clung to him, refusing to let go. It haunted his thoughts since the moment it had been mentioned, and it was just not going to go away.

"How long would it take for that... herald to find Elizabeth?", he asked all of a sudden, staring at the floor.

Tia Dalma shifted her eyes from the globe to Will. "Searching through time and space may take some time. That's why we still have a chance to bring her back", said Tia Dalma, looking back at the black globe, and preparing herself for breaking it.

"More than two or three days?", asked Will in a casual tone of voice, but a hint of something certainly non-casual in the way in which he glanced at Tia Dalma caught Barbossa's attention.

Tia Dalma almost snorted, her eyes fixed on the globe. "Definitely more than that."

Will averted his eyes from Tia Dalma, and looked at Elizabeth concernedly, taking a few steps toward her. Barbossa squinted, watching him intently.

Tia Dalma carefully took the globe in her hands, and stood up, holding the black glass globe in front of her.

Will closed his eyes, conflicting thoughts racing across his mind. In a moment Tia Dalma would break the globe, and Elizabeth would be here again. Safe. And with him. And yet...

...definitely more than two or three days... And according to what Tia Dalma had said, according to when in the past, at which moment of the past precisely Elizabeth was, it was all that he needed... Two or three days... And his Elizabeth was a smart girl...

"Is it absolutely certain that he would not find her earlier?", asked Will, wrinkling his forehead, and darting his eyes to the globe which Tia Dalma was about to break.

"An' just what is the purpose of all these questions?", cut in Barbossa in a sharp tone of voice, staggering to his feet, and approaching Will.

"If ye could continue this discussion later-", snapped Tia Dalma lifting the globe above her head.

"I'm afraid _this _has to wait as well", broke in Will pointing his sword at Tia Dalma, and his pistol at Barbossa, who stopped in his tracks, narrowing his eyes in annoyance.

Tia Dalma frowned. "What do ye think yer doing, William Turner?", she asked incredulously, shifting her eyes between the sword that was pointed at her, and Will's face.

"I think we can wait those three days and then bring Elizabeth back", said Will in a low tone of voice, hardly believing his own words, half of his heart feeling guilty, and breaking for his voluntary resignation of bringing Elizabeth back immediately, and yet half of his heart telling him that he was doing the right thing.

Barbossa raised his eyebrows. "Do ye care to explain yerself, 'cause I don't think-"

Will's mouth twitched. "If there will be no mutiny", he interrupted Barbossa in a hardly audible, but resolute whisper, steadily returning Tia Dalma's piercing gaze. "My father", he took a deep breath, and smiled faintly, "will not die."


	14. Chapter 14

A/N: _**Thank you so much for all the wonderful reviews!**_

_**...& have a very happy, amazing New Year!!!**_

AU warning: Although (in the 'present time' line of the story) we are going to follow the chronology of the events in AWE, some strange things may happen to the AWE plot... Just so you know;)

Disclaimer: I don't own Jack, Elizabeth, etc.

**Chapter 14**

Tia Dalma huffed in irritation. "Ye're not serious", she hissed through her gritted teeth. "Ye don't know what ye're doing."

Will took a deep breath, and whispered: "Just three more days. If there is but a small chance..." He approached Tia Dalma, and still pointing his sword at her, quickly took the black glass globe out of her hands. "I have to take it."

"Ye will doom her, yerself, and us all", whispered Tia Dalma menacingly.

"You said that Elizabeth is not in any danger right now-", said Will looking at Tia Dalma intently.

"I said that the herald won't find her soon which doesn't equal her not being in danger", whispered Tia Dalma, gritting her teeth. "And ye? Where are ye going?", asked Tia Dalma sharply, her eyes darting to Barbossa, who unnoticed by Will had moved away from his shooting range, and headed for the door.

"Oh, I don't want to interfere with yer discussion", answered Barbossa with a grin. "An' since I really don't care 'bout the outcome-"

"What is that supposed to mean?", asked Tia Dalma incredulously, glaring at Barbossa.

Will looked at him too, slightly puzzled.

"Well", Barbossa squinted almost thoughtfully, "truth t'be told, no good came out of that mutiny, so I can't say I'm very desperate to do anythin' substantial to prevent it from non-happenin', as it were", he explained in a rather bored tone of voice.

Will blinked, pleasantly surprised.

"Ye're forgettin' who brought ye back to life", snapped Tia Dalma angrily, enraged by Barbossa's lack of support.

"Aye. The problem is, that if there was no mutiny, perhaps they'd also be no need for bringin' me _back _to life", Barbossa flashed Tia Dalma a toothy grin.

"True", Will could not keep himself from adding, receiving a deadly glare from Tia Dalma.

"Ye're both insane!", she shouted irately.

"Ah, so ye finally noticed that, darlin'."

The three of them darted their eyes to the door, startled.

Jack stood in the doorway, a small smirk hovering over his lips. He looked at them regretting that he had not been listening long enough, and they were looking at him wondering how long he had been standing there.

"Shouldn't ye be asleep?", asked Tia Dalma impatiently, annoyed by the entire situation.

"I happened to wake up", answered Jack with an impish smile.

Will narrowed his eyes, looking at Jack suspiciously. He was apparently back to his normal self, or at least he was pretending well.

"An' I'd like to restore some order on me ship", added Jack shooting a meaningful glance in Barbossa's direction. "An'", he continued, "I want _everybody _gathered on the main deck within a quarter of an hour, thank ye", he said pointedly, cutting off Tia Dalma who was about to say something at that.

"An' what'd be the point of such gatherin'?", asked Barbossa narrowing his eyes in a sweetish smile.

"Ye shall see when ye attend", answered Jack, mirroring Barbossa's smile, his eyes sweeping over Will, and noticing the black glass globe in his hands.

Will instinctively pulled the globe closer to him, and met Jack's intent gaze, returning it steadily for a moment.

"Well then. I'll see ye there", said Jack cheerfully, and disappeared from view, not bothering to close the door behind him, too preoccupied with convincing himself that he had called the meeting for purely practical, technical, otherwise tactical reasons, and not because he wanted to see a certain person who was, apparently, purposefully avoiding him, and he would not have _any _person purposefully avoiding him on his own ship, even though his only purpose of speaking to said person who was purposefully avoiding him was to tell said person that _he _was the one doing the avoiding, and not the other way around, and perhaps he would even purposefully not just say it, but rather demonstrate that he was avoiding said person as soon as said person would be forced to stop avoiding him-

"Oi", Jack rubbed his forehead after he had bumped into his cabin's door.

* * *

Elizabeth lost track of time while waiting for Jack, and the time seemed to pass very slow, even though she knew that 'taking care of the ship' would take him the better part of the day. To her solace, she also knew that today nothing was going to happen, and she would still have a night, an entire night (because the longer his absence was now, the greater were the chances that he was not going to take the night shift at the helm, at least it was what she had suspected) to make sure that he believed her, and that he was going to do something about the upcoming mutiny. 

_Not that there is much he can do_, she thought gloomily. Now, that they were on the _Black Pearl_,everything was probably already planned and prepared, so even if he would not give away the bearings, there was no guarantee that it would prevent the mutiny. Still, she had to at least prepare him for what was going to happen a bit better, as she had to admit that she was not particularly successful at that so far.

In fact, she was not successful at anything (from saying goodbye to changing the past) so far, except for successfully having ruined her reputation, her engagement to Will, and perhaps even her chances to survive, if Tia Dalma's words were more than just a tale aimed at scaring her.

After sitting for quite a long time and occupying herself with all kinds of grim thoughts, Elizabeth decided to do something to keep herself from thinking. She made the bed, eat the breakfast that Jack had brought her, and then began tidying up both cabins, although she clearly overestimated her ability to stop thinking, and soon she was folding clothes, piling the papers on Jack's desk, and doing other things while simultaneously still thinking about all the possible outcomes of the predicament they were currently in.

A new potential problem that she suddenly came across was that even if the mutiny would not happen, and somehow they would manage to maroon Barbossa instead of Jack (yes, her imagination was definitely running away with her), they would still be left with the crew craving the cursed Aztec treasure. And even if she wouldmanage to convince Jack that the curse really existed (not that she already knew how could she achieve that), and even if he would decide to abandon the quest, there was no way the crew would just accept such a turn of events. In fact, it would be then that they could really carry on a mutiny, even without Barbossa to lead them.

Elizabeth slumped into Jack's chair with a heavy sigh. There were so many things that could go wrong, so many aspects of each solution, that it was nigh impossible to predict them all, and to plan everything in such a way that it would go smoothly and lead them to a happy ending.

A happy ending. What was a happy ending? Any changes that she would make in the past would affect the future in a more or less unpredictable way. How could she guess the effects, perhaps even the aftermaths of those changes? How could she know that fate would not find the way to restore the order that she hoped to disturb? How could she know that all the changes that she would attempt to make would not lead to even worst outcomes than those which were meant to be?

Elizabeth slowly rose to her feet, and walked to one of the small cabin windows. How would it be like to be waking up to the sight and the sound of the sea every day, to the light of the sun illuminating the blue surface of the water, and even to the rain falling over the wooden decks, to his lips on her neck-

"Jack!", Elizabeth's eyes widened, and she swirled around in his embrace with a gasp.

"Aye. Ye didn't expect somebody else, did ye, luv?", he smiled impishly, sliding his hand into her hair, and lightly pushing her head towards his, causing her lips to press against his. "Deep in thought, as always", he muttered tightening his embrace around her. "I'd give three bottles of rum to know what ye're thinkin' of, Lizzie", he whispered, kissing her again before she had a chance to answer.

"Only three?", asked Elizabeth with a trace of a sly smile, looking at him through half-lidded eyes.

Jack smirked, and brushed his lips against hers, placing a soft kiss in the corner of her mouth. "Four", he whispered, smiling roguishly, and cupping the side of her face with his hand.

Elizabeth opened her eyes, and narrowed them, trying to keep a serious facial expression. "I assure you, Captain Sparrow that my thoughts are worth much more than that."

"Never had a doubt 'bout it, luv", he brushed his thumb across her lips. "But I had to start the negotiations from the lowest bid", he wiggled his eyebrows, and smiled.

Elizabeth placed her hands on Jack's shoulders, and smiled smugly. "I have a better idea", she leaned forward, and nuzzled his neck.

"I already like yer idea, luv", answered Jack, sliding his hands up her back.

Elizabeth tilted her head backwards, and looked at him from under her eyelashes. "I will tell you what I was thinking about, and you will tell me what are you going to do-"

"I'm goin' to untie those pretty straps on the back of yer lovely dress," whispered Jack, brushing her hair behind her ear, and smiling at her mischievously. "An' then-"

Elizabeth smiled brightly, and shook her head. "No, Jack. I meant... what are you going to do _about the situation_."

"This is _exactly _what I'm goin' to do 'bout the situation", grinned Jack, swiftly picking her up from the floor, and carrying her towards the side cabin.

"Jack, I-", started Elizabeth, not really knowing anymore whom she should really blame for the predicament they were in: her inability to effectively warn him, or his ability to effectively deconcentrate her every time she tried to warn him.

The knock on the door caught them kissing in the bedroom doorway.

"It's the food", said Jack in response to Elizabeth's questioning look. "I told them that I'll eat in me cabin", he explained in a low voice, sitting Elizabeth down on the bed. "'Course I didn't mean food, but can't help if they understood it that way", he whispered into her ear, smirking, and then kissed her quickly, and left the cabin.

* * *

Jack climbed up the stairs shaking his compass, and mumbling all kinds of insulting words to it. The needle was spinning wildly, and he began to suspect that it was really broken. 

"I know what I want, I know what I want, I. Know. What. I. Want. ye bloody, treacherous, good-for-nothin', deceivin' piece of navigational mischief", he muttered angrily, slammed the compass lid shut, and went up on the main deck.

Taking a quick look around he noticed with some satisfaction that everybody _seemed_ to be gathered on deck, as he had requested. He slowly made his way towards the crew, deliberately taking smaller steps than usual which would give him more time for scanning the faces.

He looked disinterestedly at Barbossa, smiled slightly at Tia Dalma, gave a small nod to Gibbs, and swept his gaze as fast as he could over Will, looking briefly at the other members of the crew, some of the faces seeming unfamiliar, and he wondered what they were _really _doing here. There were more people than necessary to sail not one, but even two ships. They must have had some ulterior motives for coming to fetch him back from the Locker, as they were certainly not doing it for sentimental reasons. And Barbossa's presence was only strengthening that suspicion.

Jack stopped, and narrowed his eyes. "Mister Gibbs", he called in a sharp voice, causing his first mate to quickly step out of the crowd with an eager smile.

"Cap'n."

Jack glanced at him, and he quickly came closer.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but I believe I'd asked for _everybody _to be gathered here", said Jack in a low, slightly irritated tone of voice, keeping his eyes on the crew.

"Aye, Cap'n", Gibbs nodded. "Everybody's gathered here as ye asked", he said with a complacent smile.

Jack narrowed his eyes, and looked at Gibbs suspiciously, wondering whether he was purposefully pretending not to understand what he had meant, or perhaps he really had not noticed one missing person.

Gibbs blinked, slightly puzzled by the fact of being so harshly looked at. Although he did suspect the reason for the look that Jack was giving him, and yet there was nothing he could do about it. Tia Dalma had told them to evade the topic of Elizabeth at all cost.

"Very well. So everybody who's around is here, an' there's nobody around who isn't here, is that what ye're sayin', Mister Gibbs?", asked Jack under his breath, looking at Gibbs poignantly.

The crew looked at Jack and Gibbs. The hushed words of their conversation not reaching their ears, although Will had a nagging, abstract suspicion that it _might_ have something to do with Elizabeth.

"Aye", Gibbs swallowed, and forced a smile, trying to withstand Jack's piercing gaze.

"Aye", echoed Jack, for the first time in his life considering strangling somebody on the spot just for the sake of wiping a smile off his face.

And yet he could not bring himself to just asking a simple question. He would not ask that question. He would not say her name out loud. Actually, the longer he thought about it, the more he began to wonder why he insisted on seeing her. If she was avoiding him, he could not be more happy about that. He did not really want to see her anyway. In fact, he did not even _care _if she was on the ship or not (although, for some reason, he was certain that she was).

"Thank ye, Mister Gibbs. Ye were of great help. I shall remember just how helpful ye were next time we divide plunder", said Jack, narrowing his eyes, and walking past gloomily-looking Gibbs towards the gathered crew.

Suddenly, the ship jerked, and instead of making a step forward, Jack fell down to the deck, as did everyone else.

"What was that?", grumbled Pintel, rubbing his forehead.

"I don't-", started Ragetti, but his words was cut off by the sudden movement of the ship, which jerked once again, and then began to move faster and faster, rolling across the sand.

Jack got a hold of one of the ropes, and pulled himself up, taking a few unsteady steps toward the side of the ship. He dragged himself upwards, and leaned over the railing, his eyes widening at the most curious sight: the _Black Pearl _sailing across the desert, or rather – he blinked – rolling across... white crabs...

* * *

"Hector!" Jack blinked, half-surprised, half-annoyed that instead of a tray with food, he had to deal with his first mate, which would undoubtedly take him more time. 

"Can I?", Barbossa strolled into the cabin with a self-satisfied smile on his face.

Jack twitched his nose, and closed the door after him. "I thought we-"

"Aye, I just forgot 'bout one thing", cut in Barbossa, looking around the cabin. "Oh, tidyin' up, weren't ye?", he asked somewhat amused.

Jack wrinkled his forehead, and looked at him questioningly. Barbossa squinted, and Jack shifted his eyes right and left, suddenly noticing the unusual neatness of his cabin. "Aye", said Jack quickly, putting on a cheerful smile. "So, ye were sayin'...", Jack waved his hand in the air, taking a few glances around the cabin yet, smirking inwardly not so much at the fact that Elizabeth had actually spent her day cleaning his cabin, but rather at the fact that she had probably touched everything that was here, and for some reason the idea made him feel strangely happy. Happy! _And that word again..._

"I was just thinkin'", started Barbossa almost thoughtfully.

Jack took two bottles of rum from the top of a chest-of-drawers, and handed one bottle to Barbossa, opening his own with his teeth.

"Wouldn't it be better if...", Barbossa paused, and took a swig of his bottle, "we all knew the bearings?"

Jack almost choked on his rum. He darted his eyes to Barbossa, and coughed. "The bearings", he repeated in a slightly strained voice.

In the side cabin, Elizabeth's eyes widened, as she was eavesdropping leaning against the door. Her heartbeat quickened, and she tried to collect her thoughts which were chaotically spinning in her mind. What was that?! It was not supposed to happen today! It was too early! They had just left Tortuga the day before, and according to Mr. Gibbs, Barbossa asked about the bearings on the third day of the journey, and the mutiny happened on the third night! Elizabeth bit her lip, and closed her eyes. Of course. She should have known that Joshamee Gibbs was not the most _accurate _story-teller.

"Aye", Barbossa smiled broadly. "Everybody would feel better that way, equal share, equal knowledge, ye understand, Jack", he gulped some more rum down his throat, and smiled.

Jack stared at him in utter disbelief. _How did she bloody know?! _

"Yes, I'm... beginnin' to understand", answered Jack in a low voice, narrowing his eyes in a forced smile.


	15. Chapter 15

A/N: _**Thank you so much for all the amazing reviews!**_

...& I think it's been 10 days since the last update! I'm sorry for that, but I have exams now, so please be patient with me for a month or so:)

Disclaimer: I don't own POTC.

**Chapter 15**

With a loud splash followed by a hurricane of hollering voices, the _Black Pearl _slid down a large dune straight into the ocean that looked so much like the blue Caribbean Sea, even though it was the sea of the dead, the sea at the world's end, and yet it looked so enticingly blue, and lively that for a moment everyone forgot where they were, and they just raveled in the joyful realization that they were at sea again.

"That was rather fortuitous", muttered Jack with a twitch of his nose, straightening up, and brushing sand and dust off his coat.

"Aye", nodded Gibbs enthusiastically, receiving a glare from Jack, and only after a moment remembering why... He gave Jack an apologetic smile, which passed unnoticed, because Jack's attention was already redirected to Barbossa, who started giving orders to the crew.

"Oi, oi", Jack stopped him, waving his hands in irritation. "What d'ye think ye're doin'?"

Barbossa rolled his eyes. "I'm just helpin' us to make a good time. Thought ye were busy-"

"Go", Jack waved a hand at him, grimacing. "Go somewhere else", he said disgustedly, waving Barbossa away from the helm. "Overboard preferably", he added under his breath.

"Did ye say somethin'?", Barbossa turned around half-way down the small staircase leading to the helm.

"Yes. I said that I still want everybody gathered here!", he shouted the last two words loud enough for the crew to hear him, even though they were very much engrossed in the making the ship ready to sail.

But they stopped whatever they were doing, and turned their heads toward him.

Will stood by the railing watching Jack with his brows furrowed. He looked at him, trying to guess what was so special about him (_except _for being essentially insane, insufferable, and unreliable) that Elizabeth was apparently finding so fascinating. Fascinating enough to kiss him. He gritted his teeth at the memory. Why did she kiss him?

And he tried not to think that now Elizabeth was with Jack... in a way. She was in the past, so it did not really count as anything. And she did not love Jack. He knew that much. She loved him. And yet... perhaps he should not have prevented Tia Dalma from bringing her back, after all... But that flicker of hope that Elizabeth could help his father was just too strong, too wonderful to let go... And he only wondered how high would be the price for that risk that he had decided to take...

"Now", bellowed Jack, looking down at everybody. "First question."

Barbossa sighed, and leaned toward Tia Dalma, who stood with her eyes fixed on Jack searchingly. "Do we really have to-"

"Shh", she hissed angrily, shooting him an irritated look. She gazed at Jack, trying to see whether there was a change in him, whether there was something indicating that he remembered what he should not remember... whether something had changed in the past...

Although, of course, the best proof of a change was his very existence, his coming back to life.

_What are ye doing, girl? What are ye doing?_, she thought in annoyance, glancing at Will, and then glancing toward the staircase, wondering where Will could have hidden the black glass globe.

* * *

_God, Jack, don't do anything stupid._

Elizabeth stood leaning against the door, the side of her face pressed to the wooden surface so closely, that it almost hurt. But she could not care less, she wanted to catch every word of the conversation, and that was not easy with the waves crashing against the ship, the sound which – as she noticed after a while – grew louder and louder, and with a twinge of horror she finally realized that it was the sound of a storm approaching. As if they did not have enough problems already.

They. _We. _She closed her eyes, and let her imagination brush _his _hands across her skin, his warm, sere fingertips followed by his sweltering lips, the sensation even in the form of a memory almost unbearable. Elizabeth forced herself to open her eyes, withholding a gasp, and angry with herself for getting so easily distracted at the very moment when she should concentrate most.

It even crossed her mind that she wished for Barbossa to be gone from the Captain's Quarters not because she needed Jack and her to be alone so they could come up with a plan, but because she just wanted him to toss her on that bed, and kiss her senseless, and-

_Stop it_, she scolded herself, frustrated. What possessed her all of a sudden?! Not that she had not been thinking about it for the entire day anyway... in between thinking about the mutiny and all the dangers that they might face, of course... but... she had kept thinking about him too... about him... alone, not in relation to any particular events, but just about him, his smile, his eyes, the way in which he always treated her here, now, in the past, like some kind of mysterious treasure, looking at her with wary admiration, with amused curiosity, with frighteningly genuine concern. With...

_He said he loved me. _She thought that she had not been thinking enough of that sentence. Staring absently into the distance, she mutely repeated the words to herself, savouring the taste of hearing such a confession coming from him, from his lips, his lips too often curled up into enigmatic, half-amused, half-arrogant smirks, always marked by a shadow of distrust, of caution, which she had not seen him drop but once, and that one time had cost him his life... And her life for that matter too, because she was either going to die here due to her negligence, or come back to the future to live a terrifyingly empty life, unable to ever forget the ambrosial sweetness of his kisses, unable to ever free herself from the hold that he now had over her body and her soul.

Elizabeth closed her eyes, and if it was not for the fact that the door moved suddenly causing her to stumble backwards, and almost fall to the floor, she would probably not even notice Jack walking into the cabin, and he would have, once again, had the doubtful pleasure of finding her deep in thought.

"Jack", whispered Elizabeth in bewilderment, refusing to believe that she had just missed the entire conversation.

"Aye", answered Jack unenthusiastically, rubbing his forehead.

"What did you tell him?", asked Elizabeth in a nervous voice, slightly surprised by the distanced look on his face, but she ascribed it to the astonishment caused by him finally acknowledging that she was right.

Jack slowly closed the side cabin's door, and then seemed to be examining his boots for a strangely long time, which made Elizabeth rather anxious.

"Jack", she called him in a low voice, taking a step towards him. He looked up abruptly, and narrowed his eyes, and a strange look that he gave her sent cold shivers down her spine. "Is something wrong?", she asked tentatively, the question that must have sounded odd, since probably everything was wrong right now. Still, she asked the question more in connection to the look on his face than to the situation.

"He asked 'bout the bearings", said Jack in a low voice looking at her intently.

"I told you he would", answered Elizabeth crossing her arms over her chest, trying to figure out why he was staring at her with that strange, detached intensity.

"Aye. That ye did", he said quietly, and Elizabeth thought that she heard a hint of a sneer in his voice, but she quickly dismissed the impression as something impossible.

"So?", Elizabeth arched an eyebrow. "What did you tell him?", she asked, her voice faltering as he took a two slow steps toward her.

He looked at her for a moment, his eyes searching her face, like back then (_in the future_), when they were marooned together, and she had asked him how he had escaped from the rum-runners island, and she could have seen a series of conflicting emotions crossing his face, before he had at last decided to tell her the unimpressive truth.

Only now he was not considering telling the truth, but rather asking her a question, and she could almost see the hesitation dancing in his dark, suddenly very serious eyes.

"How did ye know?", he finally asked with a twitch of his mouth.

Elizabeth wrinkled her forehead, slightly taken aback by the question. "I told you I had hear-"

"Yes, yes", he interrupted her hastily, waving his hand dismissively, and she trailed off, perplexed.

"Jack, did you give him the bearings, or not?", asked Elizabeth in a soft voice, wondering what on earth got into him.

"An' if I did?", he looked at her sternly, and Elizabeth's eyes widened in complete astonishment.

"Then you made a grievous mistake", answered Elizabeth in a slightly irritated tone of voice, his behaviour beginning to annoy her, and she struggled to read his thoughts, but to no avail.

"Ah. Is that so?", he tilted his head to the side, and looked at her intently, the sneering note in his tone scaring her all of a sudden.

She looked at him sternly, and whispered through her gritted teeth: "Are you going to tell me why are you talking to me like that, or-"

But she did not manage to finish her question, because suddenly he pressed her against the wall, pinning her hands on either side of her head. Her eyes widened in surprise, and she gave him a confused look.

"Jack-"

"I still can't decide whether it's all been planned out, an' acted out perfectly, or perhaps ye really decided to come over to my side at some point", he said in a sharp whisper, his eyes roaming all over Elizabeth's stunned (_an' stunning, unfortunately, as well_, he thought with irritation) face.

"What?!", Elizabeth almost shouted, regardless the danger of being heard outside of the cabin, his words gradually sinking in, as she tried to make sense of what he had just said. "What are you trying to say?", she glared at him, attempting to free her hands, but he only tightened his grip in response.

"Tell me, Lizzie, who are ye?", he asked, his voice cold, but not very steady, and for a moment she saw a glimpse of sadness in his eyes, but it was quickly replaced by anger. "If that's still yer name, of course", he added, glancing at her lips, and then looking sternly into her eyes again.

"_If _that's _still _my name?", she stared at him, her confusion turning into fury. "What is that supposed to mean? What are you talking about? What's been planned out, acted out? What are you trying to say?", she shifted, snatching one of her hands away from his grasp, but he caught it before she even started pushing him away, like she had intended, and soon she was again pinned against the wall, this time not only by his hands, but actually by the entire length of his body, and if it was not for the anger swirling around in her mind at the moment, she would have fainted right there in his arms.

"Ye were starin' at me in Tortuga, ye kissed me, ye knew my name-", he started enumerating in a rather agitated tone of voice, looking at her intensely. His face was inches away from hers, and she could feel his breath on her cheeks, as he tried to retain his composure, that is: his anger, while his ragged breathing, and darkening eyes were betraying him.

"Are you suggesting that I'm taking part in that, that, that... scheme!?", Elizabeth broke in, slowly beginning to understand the reason for his strange behaviour.

Her heart raced, and she was not sure anymore whether it was because of his proximity, or because she was absolutely furious with him at the moment. How could he possibly think that she was a part of Barbossa's mutinous plan?! How could he possibly accuse her of-

...betraying him...

Her heart sank at the memory; and the realization. The realization that she could not throw her arms around his neck, and swear that she would never ever betray him...

"_It's after you, not the ship."_

Yet still, yet _here_, yet _now_, in this realityhe was wrong.

"Are ye?" His question shook her out of her reverie, and she looked at him, her anger dwindling, as she suddenly remembered one more thing...

She was talking to a dead man.

"Are ye, Lizzie?", he asked quietly, his grip on her hands tightening once again, but this time it seemed that he did not merely tried to prevent her from running away; this time he just wanted her to stay, and deny everything. She felt it in his touch, in the way his fingers were closing around her wrists.

"How can you even ask", she whispered, blinking back the tears which were welling up in her eyes.

"How can I not", he retorted, half-angrily, half-apologetically, tilting his head forward, his lips hovering over hers.

Elizabeth stared up at him sadly. Maybe he was right. Maybe he at least had a right to be suspicious. They had met here in such strange circumstances... It was not his fault that he thought... What exactly did he think? That Barbossa had sent her to seduce him, to distract him?

"I love you", she whispered, knowing perfectly well that she was not exactly answering any of his questions, but somehow she could not think about anything else to say.

He stared at her for a moment, still frowning, and when she thought that he was going to continue his inquiries disregarding her last sentence, his lips suddenly came crashing down on hers, and he kissed her deeply, kissed her hard, letting go of her hands, and pulling her towards him, one hand tangled in her hair, the other caressing her back, pressing her closer.

"I'm sorry", he breathed the words near her ear, and Elizabeth flinched unconsciously.

"_I'm not sorry."_

"Don't apologize to me. Please", she whispered against his lips, before he kissed her again.

And she could feel a mischievous smile forming on his lips, when he replied under his breath: "I didn't even startin' apologizin' yet, luv."

Elizabeth placed her hands on his shoulders, and smiled faintly, the sadness caused by his suspicions still hovering over her mind like a dark cloud made out of her own guilt.

"Would you forgive me?", she asked slowly, her eyes glassy and solemn, fixed on him intently.

He frowned slightly in puzzlement, but she quickly kissed him to brush the frown away from his face.

"It's not true, but... if it was, if I did, would... would you forgive me?", she stared up at him, trying to keep her facial expression as indifferent as possible, without showing an agonizingly hopeless plea burning deep, and hot in her heart.

To her surprise, he did not get angry, or even suspicions again, but he turned merely pensive, looking at her with concern, his eyes studying her face with calm intensity. Gently, he tucked loose strands of hair behind her ear, and smiled at her thoughtfully.

"An' what would ye be willin' to do to earn yer forgiveness, darlin'?", he asked with a glint of mischief in his eyes, but she also saw a glimpse of seriousness behind the amused facade of his smiling face.

"Sail to the ends of the world...", she whispered in a hollow voice, looking at him unblinkingly, and something in her eyes stopped his smile from turning into a fully entertained grin. "Cling to you, and tell you that what I did was only a selfish attempt to save the illusion which I was trying to live."

Jack wrinkled his forehead in slight confusion, but before he managed to form a request for clarification, she pressed her lips to his, and kissed him, pouring into the kiss her heart, and her soul, her guilt, her love, and her remorse, because what was now could have never been, and would never be, and her atonement would remain belated forever.

* * *

"Who are ye?", was Jack's first question addressed to the group of Chinese pirates standing in the middle of the deck. 

"Sao Feng sends his _regards_", answered Tai Huang with a faint sneer, looking at Jack steadily.

Jack grimaced at the name. "Good. I mean... not good, but we'll come back to that later", he said shifting his eyes from the group to Barbossa. "Second question. Why is he not dead?", asked Jack pointing with his finger to Barbossa.

"Could ask ye the same question", retorted Barbossa irritatedly.

"Ah", Jack smiled, left the helm, and slowly walked down the small staircase leading onto the main deck. "That bring us to the third question", he squinted. "I don't think I want to have on me ship those of ye who wanted to kill me in the past." Barbossa shook his head in exasperation, Will looked away with disinterest. "Especially those", Jack paused, " who succeeded."

Will's and Barbossa's eyes darted to him.

"Succeeded?", echoed Will, perplexed. Everybody, except for Tia Dalma, seemed either surprised, or confused.

"Ah", Jack forced a smirk. "She's not told ye. Lovely story, I assure ye", he held Will's baffled gaze for a moment, and then turned around. "So everybody who feels mentioned is encouraged to leave me ship-"

"Alright. We've had enough of that nonsense, I reckon", interrupted Barbossa, stepping forward. "We didn't come here to fetch ye back for the sheer pleasure of yer company", he said in an irritated voice. Jack turned around, and narrowed his eyes at him. "The song's been sung, an' the Brethren Court's goin' to meet", he continued in a low, deep voice. Jack seemed displeased. "An' ye're expected to be there with yer Piece of Eight, so stop wastin' our time, an' set sail for we're headin' for Shipwreck Cove, an' the sooner we get there the better."

The silence fell, and everybody looked at Jack expectantly.

"Well, if ye want to go to the fancy gatherin', ye'll have to do it alone, mate. I'm afraid I'm not in the mood", he added narrowing his eyes in a quick, artificial smile, before turning around, and walking away, upset, not really knowing what exactly he was upset about.

Obviously, they had come here for a reason, and there was really _nothing _surprising about that. And actually, he did not care for their motives, ulterior, or not. He had not asked them to come, had he? Perhaps the Locker was not even all that bad, at least he had not had to deal with all of those irritating, duplicitous, treacherous- Alright. So perhaps it _might _have crossed his mind that sh-, that _they _had come, because- Not that he cared. The only reason why he would rather get out of here was those tantalizingly palpable hallucinations which, he hoped, would end once he left the Locker.

Of course not all of them were bad... Actually... he did not mind too much... some of them, even though there was something disturbing about them, something he could not quite put his finger on... Usually, he dreamt about what he would like to happen, but those dreams were different, they felt as if they were not his, in the sense that he was not making them up, he did not wish for them, but they were coming as if from the outside, from... the world, from the real world...

Deep in thought, Jack walked below deck, heading for his cabin, but because of all those annoying thoughts he missed his door, and walked on, suddenly stopping, and opening the door which he believed to lead to his cabin.

...yet hallucinations were supposed to feel real, so perhaps there was nothing to worry about. And the fact that he had an impression that he more _remembered _those dreams than dreamt them... Oh, well. Many factors could contribute to that weird feeling...

Jack slammed the door shut behind him, took off his coat, and threw it over a chair.

...The Locker, the heat, too much sand, stones which had been following him, humidity, Lizzie, sun, lack of water, lack of-

He froze.

_Lizzie... Lizzie?...!_

His eyes widened, and he stared at her motionless form lying on the bed. Taking a quick look around the cabin he noticed not without irritation that he was not in his cabin... _Must've walked too far..._

She was, apparently, asleep, although he found it odd that the loud noise which he had made slamming the door had not woken her. His first thought was to walk out, and walk out _immediately_, but for some reason he could not tear his eyes off her, so he just stood there staring at her, frowning at her, and trying to convince himself that that wave of heat that washed over him was only a mixture of astonishment, and anger, and nothing else, nothing more. He did not want to see her _at all. _He absolutely did want to see her. _I don't want to see her_, he thought decidedly, staring at her unblinkingly, and wondering whether perhaps he should wake her up to tell her just that?...

* * *

The ship jostled, breaking the kiss for them, and allowing them to at last catch their breath. 

"I've to go take the helm, luv. The storm's breaking", whispered Jack into Elizabeth's hair, holding her close.

Elizabeth clutched the fabric of his coat on his shoulders, and nestled her face into his neck. "I know", she breathed, and then drew back, and looked at him worriedly. "You haven't answered me yet. Did you-"

"No", he cut in with a small smile, drawing his hand across her face. "I didn't tell 'im", he said, deciding to leave out the comment, that he still was not too convinced that there was a scheme going on... Yes, at first, when he had heard the very question it had taken him by surprise, and then suddenly his and Elizabeth's wonderfully accidental meeting had began looking suspicious... But once that was solved, he came back to his doubtful approach to her fears.

Elizabeth gave him a bright smile, and kissed him ardently. Of course, it was not the end of troubles, but at least they had made some progress. Now she had to convince him yet, that the treasure was cursed, and they should change the course...

"I'll be back as soon as the storm's over, aye?", he grinned between the kisses, and at last forced himself to pull away.

Elizabeth nodded sadly, walking him to the door. She put his hat on his head, and kissed his smiling lips once again.

When he left she leaned against the door, and sighed. She felt as if she was walking in the air, as if everything was happening a few inches above the ground, her heart raced, and she tried to calm down, and tell herself that he would be back soon, and that there was no sense in missing him already.

She should rather think about what to do next, because the fact that Jack had not given Barbossa the bearings did not guarantee anything. Apart from Barbossa's irritation, of course.

* * *

The drizzle greeted Jack when he appeared on the deck, walking quickly towards the helm. The sky was dark, and still darkening. Black, amorphous clouds were flooding the sky, casting grim shadows on the ruffled water surface. 

Walking across the deck, he shouted orders to the crew, and it took him a moment to realize that as he walked among them, they stood motionlessly just watching him, and making no move to actually do what he was ordering them to do. He stopped, and turned around, shooting a questioning look at the crew, a strange, ill-boding feeling creeping over him...

"Anything wrong?", he asked sharply, trying to make out their facial expressions in the swiftly approaching darkness.

"Oh, it's nothin'", Barbossa's slightly sneering voice suddenly sounded to his left, and Jack turned his head towards the dark silhouette of his first mate. "Only that...", he gave out a heavy sigh. Jack squinted, his hand slowly, and surreptitiously travelling to his pistol. "Everyone, me included, is rather surprised by yer... how should I call it?", he paused, and for a moment the only audible sound was the sound of raindrops falling onto the deck in eerie, mute half-darkness. "By yer _inconsideration_."

Jack's mouth twitched, his eyebrows furrowed, as he scanned the faces around him from under his hat, the rain falling over him like a cold waterfall of doubt-free realizations.

"We", Barbossa made a wide gesture with his hand, indicating everybody around, "just wanted to know where we're headed. Is there _anything wrong _with that, Jack?"

Suddenly, the name sounded intimidating. Suddenly, his astonishment was subsiding, being slowly replaced by anger. _Who the hell did he think he was?!_

"We're headed where we're supposed to", said Jack through his gritted teeth, finally breaking the silence. His eyes scanned the crowd, several muttering voices making a sudden noise in the semi-darkness.

"Aye", Barbossa grinned, taking a step closer towards him, and out of the corner of his eye Jack noticed that other pirates did the same. "But, ye see, we'd be interested in a more substantial headin', so to speak."

Jack looked at him steadily, his grip on his pistol tightening. Barbossa took one more step forward.

"An' since ye didn't want to show us the map, we thought that we'd show it to us ourselves", Barbossa broke into a short, dry laughter, joined by several other voices.

Engaged in acknowledging that everybody took yet another step towards him, Jack did not immediately understood what Barbossa had just said, the meaning of his words reaching him only a moment later, his eyes widening in sudden dismay.

And just when it crossed his mind that Barbossa had sent somebody to search his cabin, the footsteps were heard. The footsteps, and something else...

"Did ye get the map", Barbossa's voice was suddenly very cold, and sharp, his eyes fixed on Jack who was steadily returning his gaze, his mind racing, and his heart beating so fast that he thought that it would jump out of his chest.

"No", a grumpy voice which Jack recognized as Koehler's sounded from the distance, followed by a chuckle.

Barbossa huffed in annoyance, but then squinted as the two pirates came into the view, dragging something... someone?... with them.

"But we've found somethin' else", added Twigg with a villainous smile.

Knowing perfectly well that it would be better if he did not turn around, Jack nonetheless turned around, his eyes locking with Elizabeth's immediately. Twigg and Koehler were holding her by the arms, and she struggled, but stopped for a moment when Jack looked at her.

Barbossa shifted his eyes between them, his lips stretching into a lazy smile. "What a surprise", he sneered. "This is goin' to be even more interestin' than I thought."


	16. Chapter 16

A/N: _**Thank you so much for all the fantastic reviews!**_

Disclaimer: Jack, Elizabeth, etc. belong to Disney.

**Chapter 16**

Truth to be told, he actually believed that if he stared at her intensely enough, she would wake up, and he was slightly disappointed that she, apparently, wouldn't.

Jack crossed his arms over his chest, and looked at Elizabeth's sleeping form. There was something odd in the way she slept... She seemed so motionless... _too _motionless, as if... frozen.

He stood at a safe (?...) distance from her, trying to decide what he should do: leave or wake her up. Leaving was certainly the best course of action. As for waking her up... What would he tell her? That he woke her up to tell her that he did not want to see her? That he wanted her to get the hell off his ship? That he wanted _her _to go to hell? That he was going to make her walk the plank? Now, _that _was an idea. He had not thought about that before, but it seemed quite reasonable, and well-justified. A perfect punishment for killing the captain.

Having his mind engrossed by his supposedly vicious musings, he did not even notice when his eyes began wandering all over her body, and his matter-of-fact inner discussion slowly dispersed giving way to some less formal thoughts; those annoying, memory-like thoughts which kept haunting him. And he could almost feel her hands gliding across his chest, could almost hear her voice whispering his name, and-

He twitched his nose, and huffed in annoyance, looking at Elizabeth angrily. Was she going to haunt him, and his thoughts forever? Bloody, treacherous wench.

Only half-knowing what he was doing, he slowly sat at the edge of the bed, furrowed his brows, and looked at her with utmost hatred (or so he hoped...).

Being that close to her he could actually hear her steady breathing, and when he leaned even closer, he could feel it on his face. He stared at her thinking that it really would not hurt if she was a tad bit _less_ beautiful. Or less temperamental. Or less enticing. Or less... close.

His eyes subconsciously focused on her lips, and he gritted his teeth, irritated, imagining leaving the cabin immediately.

He could just rise to his feet, turn around, open the door, walk out, close the door, and cheerfully stroll up the corridor-

Yes. He _could_. And he probably should. And yet instead he lifted his hand, and brushed a strand of hair away from her face.

Why wouldn't she wake up? It was truly stunning that she could sleep that well with such a dirty conscience, he thought grumpily.

Unless... she was not feeling guilty _at all_. After all, it was what she had said: she was not sorry, was she? So she could just have a marvellous night (or day, actually) of sleep without any disturbing thoughts involving him, while he was constantly haunted by the thoughts concerning her, even though he really did not care-

_Oh, bugger it all_, he thought irately, and before the more reasonable half of his consciousness had a chance to stop him, he leaned down, and pressed his lips to hers.

And then he quickly drew back only half-terrified, because he had already prepared a witty, explanatory retort, namely, that he had intended to strangle her, and the kiss was only a _vicious _way of waking her up, so she would be conscious while dying. There. It was the most plausible explanation that he could come up with at the moment anyway.

But to his stupefaction... she _still_ did not wake up, so there was no need for any explanation.

Jack frowned. Well, he _had_ hoped that she would not have woken up. On the other hand... he had actually expected her to wake up. He bloody kissed her!... She _should _wake up.

Not really trying to think just how ridiculous the entire situation was becoming, he leaned down, and kissed her again, the softness of her lips catching him by surprise, no matter how many times he kissed her (which was less than _not_ many, he reminded himself dryly).

He closed his eyes, gently capturing her lips in between his, even though she was not responding, not even moving, and definitely _not _waking up... Perhaps he should just thank God that she did not wake up yet (saving him the humiliation of being caught kissing her after what she had done!...), and pull away, ans leave the cabin _immediately_. Unfortunately, the taste of her lips was so intoxicating... so sweet... so-

"Never knew ye're the kind t' be takin' advantage of sleepin' women, Jack."

Jack jumped up, and in his awkward attempt to stand up as fast as possible, he slid off the bed, and onto the floor, to yet further amusement of already very much amused Barbossa, who stood in the doorway with a broad smile on his face.

"Poor Mr. Turner might have died from shock, should he walk in here instead of me", continued Barbossa, walking into the cabin, and closing the door behind him.

Jack staggered to his feet, and angrily brushed the more or less imaginary dust off his coat. "Bloody shut it", he muttered, finally lifting his eyes to glare at Barbossa, who grinned in response.

"So yer act of bravery, was, in fact _her _act of treachery, aye?", asked Barbossa, squinting, his tone of voice changing slightly to a more serious, but still a fairly amused one.

Jack narrowed his eyes. "I'm not in the conversational mood", he snapped, intending to storm out of the cabin, but not sure how he could actually do that without leaving Barbossa in the cabin alone with Elizabeth.

"Oh, I know", said Barbossa with a chuckle. "Ye're in a _fairy_ mood, tryin' t' wake the wench up with a kiss."

"She's ain't a wench", snapped Jack, causing Barbossa to sneer triumphantly. "Ye do realize that from the logical point of view, ye're dead, right?", asked Jack irritatedly, wishing to change the subject.

Barbossa shook his head. "From the logical point of view we're both dead, Jack", he smiled enigmatically.

Jack grimaced. "I'm not sure I-"

"Ye were dead", cut in Barbossa, his voice blank, but sharp. "Really dead", he added with a smile at the look of confusion on Jack's face, which turned into a look of anxiousness, when he caught a meaningful glance that Barbossa shot Elizabeth.

He looked at her over his shoulder, and then back to Barbossa. "She's not asleep", Jack more said, than asked, looking at Barbossa searchingly.

Barbossa's lips stretched into a smile. "More than asleep", he said, reaching for the doorknob. "But less than dead", he added in a sweetishly reassuring tone of voice, and then left the cabin, leaving Jack with more than a perplexed look on his face.

* * *

"Ah. Miss Sparrow, isn't it?", inquired Barbossa in a low voice. Elizabeth glared at him wordlessly. "I'd think that's rather rude t'keep yer _cousin _locked up in yer cabin, instead of _introducin'_ 'er t' yer _friends_. Don't ye think, Jack?", he asked, the question followed by a series of darkly echoing chuckles.

The rain was gradually becoming heavier, and the sky seemed to darken quickly. The waves sounded more and more insistent, hitting the hull of the _Black Pearl_ with angry force.

Jack ignored him, as well as the ever-tightening circle of dark faces around him, and instead he just turned toward Koehler and Twigg, and addressed them sternly, with a hint of strained nonchalance in his voice: "Let her go."

The two pirates looked at him sardonically.

"I'm afraid ye're hardly in the position t' be givin' orders, Jack", said Barbossa, amused.

The amusement seemed to spread among the members of the crew, and it was that moment of brief deconcentration that Jack needed to take a quick step to the side, and snatch Elizabeth away from the two pirates who were holding her. He roughly shoved her behind him, and backed them both toward the railing, drawing his sword.

Barbossa chuckled. "Are ye goin' to duel with all of us at once?", he asked, squinting.

"One by one preferably", retorted Jack, narrowing his eyes, and looking at Barbossa through the veil of rain. "But if ye insist", he added with a small, angry smile, slowly regaining his senses, and recovering from shock caused by the entire situation; slowly acknowledging that it was really happening.

Elizabeth stood behind Jack, holding on to his coat, digging her nails in the wet fabric. Her own dress was soaking wet, and she was drenched to the skin already, her sopping hair sticking to her face.

"Don't be ridiculous", snarled Barbossa impatiently. "Ye're wastin' my time."

"An' just why am I not wallowin' in me grief over it?" Out of the corner of his eye Jack noticed somebody furtively approaching from the side. He waited a moment yet, and when the man came even closer, he quickly pulled out his pistol and fired, not even knowing exactly whom he shot, as in the almost complete darkness, and the torrents of rain it was impossible to see clearly.

"An' yer bullets", amended his previous statement Barbossa in a low, menacing voice, glancing at the dead body disinterestedly.

The crew that had been gathering around Jack stopped in mid-action, and the circle that had been tightening around him, came to a halt. Now there was a railing behind him and Elizabeth, and an angry, but motionless crowd to their right, to their left, and in front of them. He felt Elizabeth's breath on his neck, and he wanted to tell her something reassuring, but there was no time for that.

"If ye want the map, I've to disappoint ye, mate", said Jack in a loud voice, the rain picking up, and making it gradually harder and harder to hear anything. Barbossa took a step forward, and narrowed his eyes. "There's no map", announced Jack with a sly smile.

Elizabeth pressed herself closer to Jack, telling herself that she was doing that only because she was cold, even though his drenched coat could hardly make her feel warmer... Yet it was a better explanation, saving her the necessity to admit how really scared she was. There was no way they could get away, and whatever verbal tricks Jack was going to employ, she was afraid that those tricks could not give them enough advantage to keep a crowd of armed, angry people from whatever they wanted to do.

Barbossa snarled, the rain dripping down from the rim of his hat. "Nice try. But somehow I don't believe ye", he said looking at Jack intently.

"Let me clarify", replied Jack with mock-eagerness. "The map", he raised his pistol, and put it to his head, "is here. An' _only_ here", he added, lowering the pistol with a small smirk playing about his lips.

Elizabeth closed her eyes, and rested her forehead against the back of Jack's head, his wet dreadlocks feeling unexpectedly soft, and soothing against her skin.

Was he bluffing? And even if he was not... What difference did it make? How many bullets could he have in that pistol?

Her eyes darted to the helm, and she spotted somebody there, although she could not tell who it was. But soon the storm would get bad enough that the helm would have to be taken not by some crew member, but by somebody who could actually get them through the tempest. Perhaps that would give them a chance to escape...

"Well, we should get it from there, then, I guess", said Barbossa narrowing his eyes in a sour smile, and giving a quick nod to somebody.

Before Jack could interfere, suddenly Elizabeth was grabbed by the arms, and dragged away. She screamed probably more from surprise than from fear. She was so cold, and so dazed by the rain, and by everything that was happening that she could hardly keep track of her own emotions anymore.

Jack made a subconscious step toward the direction in which she was taken, but turning his back to the group on his left side was a careless idea, which cost him having his pistol knocked out of his hand, and he escaped having a dagger pressed to his throat only because he accidentally tripped, and therefore ducked, evading his attacker.

Quickly rising to his feet, he squeezed the sword in his hand, and stepped backwards, toward the railing, looking around, and trying to spot Elizabeth. She was still within his eyesight range, which calmed him down a bit.

"So, Jack?", Barbossa took a few steps forward, the water splashing from under his heavy boots as he walked. "I'd need that map, _wherever_ it is", he said in a low voice, standing in front of Jack, who had his sword pointed at him.

"Not the nicest way of askin'", replied Jack, looking at Barbossa intensely, a little bit too obviously stalling for time. Out of the corner of his eye he kept watching Elizabeth who was being once again held by Twigg and Koehler.

Barbossa snorted. "I'd asked _very_ nicely, but then ye'd declined my kind request, so I had t'alterate my methods", he smiled wryly, and after a moment of holding Jack's gaze, he shifted his eyes to Elizabeth.

Twigg sneered, and moved one of his hands from her arm to her breast. Elizabeth writhed furiously, but to no avail. She caught a flash of Jack approaching before her eyes close shut for a moment at the sharp, clinging sound of blades crossing. She opened her eyes, almost unable to follow the movements of swords, so quick they were, and so blurred in the rain. And she heard Barbossa hiss loudly when a blade of Jack's sword cut his arm, but he responded with an angry blow which missed Jack's neck only for inches.

Jack made a move, but tripped on the slippery deck, and the sound of the pounding rain mixed with sinister laughter made Elizabeth's heart almost stop beating, a cold shiver running through her, and when Barbossa took out his pistol, and pulled the trigger, she screamed, before it registered in her mind that he probably had no intention of shooting Jack, at least not before he got what he wanted, and yet the sight of Barbossa's pistol pointed at him prevented her from thinking clearly.

Barbossa gave her a sardonic smile, before moving his gaze back to Jack, who was at that very moment staggering to his feet from the deck. Watching him standing up, Elizabeth noticed with dismay blood dripping from him to the deck, but she could not locate exactly the place where he had received the gash, nor recall the moment when she had seen him getting it. She stared wide-eyed on the deck, on the rain mixed with blood, almost completely forgetting that she was being held, and she shuddered when she suddenly felt a sour breath of one of her captors on her face:

"Ye've got a name?", asked Koehler, nearing his face to hers.

Elizabeth tilted her head to the side, away from him, and stared straight ahead, shivering from cold, the rain falling over her in merciless torrents.

"I'm beginnin' to lose my patience", Barbossa squinted, his own clothes drenched already as well.

A few delicate clouds flew over the moon, veiling even that small amount of light from the above.

Jack took off his hat, and threw it away, and Elizabeth watched the hat flying overboard and disappearing in the murky darkness of the waves. Then Jack took off his coat, and disposed of it as well. Barbossa tilted his head to the side.

"An' what are ye doin'?", he asked with a grimace.

Jack raised his sword, and Barbossa arched his eyebrows, and then laughed huskily, his laughter sharp, and ill-boding, and it pierced through Elizabeth's mind, making her feel even colder.

"I won't be duelin' with ye", said Barbossa with an ironic smile, his eyes cold, and unblinking, and fixed on Jack. "Ye just don't understand, do ye?"

Elizabeth bit her lip, trying to hold back the tears, even if they would not be probably be noticeable in the rain. Somehow she felt that it was all her fault. She could have tried harder to convince him... She could have told him the truth... What would have happened if she had told him? Maybe nothing. Like nothing happened after the medallion had disappeared. Nothing happened... yet. And still, perhaps she should have risked it. She should have risked whatever there was to be risked.

"It's not a battle, Jack", continued Barbossa, tilting his head to the side, the thunder crashing somewhere in the background. "It's not a fair fight, or a duel. I don't know where yer funny notions come from, but ye should really dispose of them, take my advice on that", a ghost of an ominous smile flickered across Barbossa's lips. "Yer choice is very simple", he bellowed through the rain, and then said in a low, steady voice. "Ye give us the bearings, an' I let ye live." Jack looked at him with unmoving face, his breathing uneven; he inhaled sharply, glancing at Elizabeth, who struggled in a harsh embrace. "Or", Barbossa took one more step forward, "we'll see whether the wench's worth keepin'."

Without warning Jack raised his sword, but before he managed to strike Barbossa somebody caught him from behind, or perhaps even more than one person, because suddenly he could not see anything falling down, his face crashing against the deck, and he could only hear Elizabeth screaming, and Barbossa's voice somewhere nearby in the almost complete darkness:

"She won't be good for long, but for two or three days should keep everybody satisfied."

The laughter seemed muffled, and he was not sure whether it was because of the rain, or because somebody kicked him on the head again. He tried to pull himself upwards, but every time he tried, somebody hit him again, and again, and he was surprised that he did not feel anything anymore. He only heard her voice, but it was coming from further and further away with every passing moment-

Suddenly, a fire shot reverberated on the deck, and everything seemed to stop for a moment, allowing him to catch his breath.

"What the hell do ye think ye're doin'?"

Jack lifted his head, and saw Barbossa's angry profile.

"Stoppin' ye", somebody said in a firm voice.

Jack took advantage of the attention being drawn to someone else, and while staggering to his feet, he reached for a knife hidden in his boot, his eyes habitually darting to Elizabeth who was looking at him with wide-eyes, and he felt himself smiling inwardly at the look of desperate worry in her eyes, but he was not strong enough to smile on the surface as well, so he just blinked at her reassuringly, catching a ghost of a smile flitting across her lips in the dim moonlight.

"Lock 'im in the brig", said Barbossa irritatedly, and the three men immediately moved towards Bill Turner, who jumped to the side, running into the small group on the right side, and knocking Twigg, Koehler, and Elizabeth unfortunately as well down, but he quickly helped her up, and threw her toward Jack.

Everything was happening so fast, that Elizabeth could hardly keep her balance. Jack swirled her around, and pushed her toward the railing, stabbing one of the pirates who tried to stop them.

"Jump", he told her in the determined voice, gazing at her intensely, and then turning around to push more attackers away.

"Jump", the word was suddenly repeated by Bill Turner who appeared on their side shooting a man who lifted his sword at him. "Both of ye", he added breathlessly.

Elizabeth stared at the man whom she had never seen before, and then it suddenly dawned on her who he was.

"You too", she said urgently, grabbing his hand.

Bill shot her a cordially amused look. "Thank ye, miss, but I'll be fine-"

"No!", she shouted, when Jack already lifted her in his arms, apparently intending to throw her overboard.

"Right after ye, luv, hold on", he whispered into her ear, and she caught a glimpse of his reassuring, dark, beautiful eyes boring into hers. She swallowed, and nodded, but then before Jack helped her jump, she looked at Bill Turner, and in the most persuasive tone she could muster shouted through the rain:

"Jump, please", Bill Turner smiled, defeating somebody attacking them from the left side. "For Will", added Elizabeth, and the two words finally really attracted Bill's attention, and he turned his head to her abruptly, half-astonished, half-confused, but then she was gone.

Jack climbed on the railing, and shooting a long look at Barbossa, who observed the commotion that had ensued from the distance (his attention divided between the fight, and the shouting coming from the helm, and the storm that began attacking the ship with fury), jumped after Elizabeth into the dark, tempestuous ocean.

Bill Turner watched them disappear in the darkness, Elizabeth's last word clinging to him strangely. He hesitated for a moment yet, but then grabbed a line, and swung himself overboard, falling into the black immensity of the turbulent ocean in the impossible noise of cold, ferocious rain.


	17. Chapter 17

A/N: _**Thank you so much for all the beautiful reviews!**_

Disclaimer: I don't own Jack, Elizabeth, etc.

**Chapter 17**

Bill flew through the darkness for an oddly long time, before hitting the hard water surface, the ocean water even colder than the rain. He looked around, his vision impossibly blurred by water, water everywhere, falling from the sky like millions stinging waterfalls, swirling around him, tossing him in every direction. Finally he caught a glimpse of movement, and swam towards it. He could see a flash of light blue fabric against the dark, tormented waves.

Elizabeth did not swim, but merely tried to keep herself on the water surface, straining her eyes, and looking around for any sign of Jack. She looked at the _Black Pearl_, and the ship seemed as enormous as ever, as dark, and terrifying as she remembered it from that all too real a vision that she had had (_will have..._) on the course from England... She tasted the salty water on her lips, not really knowing whether it was the rain, or her tears, but in either case they tasted of one thing – of regret, of the realization that she had failed, that they- that Jack had lost the _Pearl_, and that the past was not as easy to change as she had so naively believed.

She cringed, and gasped in surprise at the feeling of somebody's arms around her. Instinctively, she wanted to snatch herself away, but then her eyes met the familiar gaze, and she smiled feeling more relieved that she had ever felt in her life.

"We've to swim, Lizzie!", Jack shouted through the rain, pulling her closer, and looking around.

"Where to?", she asked, fighting the ridiculous urge to wrap her arms around him, and kiss him until he would not be able to breath anymore. The thought that she might have lost him...

_I had lost him... I will lose him..._

He looked at her with a trace of his roguish smile, even though she could see that his eyes were not smiling at all.

"T' where the sea will take us", he answered, and pressed his lips to hers awkwardly, the waves swinging them chaotically. "I love you. Remember that", he whispered, pulling away, and motioning her to swim, before she managed to reply.

* * *

Jack stood frozen to the spot, staring at the door long after Barbossa had left, and trying to comprehend what it was exactly that he had said. What had he meant?

Dead. He knew he was dead. He was (or rather, technically, still was) in the Locker, and the Locker was the place for the dead, was it not?

Well, not really. Alright. So it was the place for more or less dead people. For almost dead people. Semi-dead people, but still, not really, not _perfectly _dead.

And yet Barbossa had told him that he had been _really _dead. But if so, then why now he was not dead? And what it had to do with Elizabeth? _"More than asleep, but less than dead." _What was that supposed to mean?

Jack shifted his eyes back to her. He knew she should have woken up... She would have woken up if she was only asleep.

Paradoxically, the more he thought about it, the more elusive the connection between Elizabeth's current state, and his restored earthly existence was becoming.

And there was probably only one person who could explain all of that to him.

He turned to leave, but his hand stopped in mid-way to the doorknob.

If she was not likely to wake up...

He glanced at Elizabeth over his shoulder, thinking whether she would mind if he just kissed her one more time _very_ quickly.

Of course she would mind!...

Not that he cared if she would mind. _Pirate._

On the other hand, why would _he _want to do that?!

Telling himself that one: he _really_ did _not_ want to do that, and two: she would be mad at him for doing that, he nevertheless walked over to the bed, leaned down, and brushed his lips against hers. And then after staring at her thoughtfully for a longer while, he swiftly rose to his feet, and stormed off the cabin annoyed, and angry with himself for feeling what he was feeling, even though he did not know what he was feeling, nor was he probably feeling it in the first place. Yes, he was just imagining that he was feeling it, because he most certainly could not be feeling _anything _toward that damn woman, that bloody _it's Miss Swann to you _governor's daughter, that vicious, hypocritical murderess, that traitorous, poisonous, untrustworthy-

(Oh, and he really had to punch Barbossa for calling her a wench yet.)

Where was he? Oh yes. Untrustworthy. Yes. That untrustworthy, perfidious-

(How did he dare to call her a wench? Bloody, recreant apple-eater.)

...perfidious, despicable, disloyal _wench!..._

* * *

She thought that it must have been a miracle, when suddenly she could feel the ground under her feet, the soft sand against her skin.

Somebody pulled her out of the water, and she fell down onto the sand, too tired to stand on her feet, and she just lie motionlessly, breathing heavily, and hearing somebody's steady breathing near her ear. She made an effort, and reached her hand to touch him, and Jack's hand closed around hers, and he held her hand breathing raggedly, and not saying a word.

But he did not have to say anything. It was enough that in that darkness around them she heard him breathing, and that he held her hand in his.

The rain was falling over them, but neither of them moved, as if there was no reason to get up, and find the shelter. They were soaking wet, and exhausted, so unbelievably exhausted, that Elizabeth thought that she would never get enough air to breath evenly again.

She rolled on her side, and her head rested on what she believed was Jack's shoulder. It was dark, the moonlight giving off a faint, whitish light which might be enough to see their surroundings, but she was just too tired to open her eyes, and try to see anything in the rain.

"All alive?", came a loud, heavy half-shout, half a gasp from the near distance, and with a small flutter of her heart Elizabeth recognized Bill Turner's voice. So he had jumped, after all. She smiled weakly.

"Aye", shouted back Jack, and it was the only word that he uttered, or at least the only one that she heard before heavy, overpowering, and colorless sleep overtook her, and she drifted away into the night, relieved that she had achieved at least one thing, after all, and knowing that she had saved his father, made her feel a little bit less guilty towards Will, when she snuggled herself closer to Jack, and kissed his rain-stained neck with her trembling, soppy lips.

* * *

"I don't know what ye're talking about", said Tia Dalma in a blank voice, looking at Jack indifferently.

Jack sighed, both irritated, and disappointed that she was actually thinking that he was that gullible to believe such an 'explanation'.

"I'd hope that ye'd know that this kind of answer would make me even more inquisitive, darlin'", said Jack narrowing his eyes in a slightly strained smile.

Tia Dalma looked at him unimpressed. "I have nothing more to tell ye", she said plainly.

"Alright", Jack half-snapped. "If ye don't want to tell me why she's so deeply asleep, maybe ye could at lest tell me why I am so deeply awake?", he asked, looking at Tia Dalma searchingly.

"I think we should focus on getting out of the Locker", she answered, squinting.

Jack stared at her in utter annoyance, but Tia Dalma was returning his gaze steadily. At some point however, he noticed a glimpse of a sudden thought flashing in her eyes.

"I could bring her back if I'd have my globe back", she said cautiously, not convinced that it was the right course of action, but on the other hand... On the other hand if she just brought Elizabeth back, that entire time-travelling story would be over, and there would be nothing to worry about except for getting out of the Locker which was enough of a reason to worry... Moreover, she was not going to tell Jack anything, merely have him help her get back the black glass globe.

Jack wrinkled his forehead, and took a few swaggering steps toward her. She raised her eyebrows, when he gave her a mischievous smile, leaning closer.

"Back from where?", he asked in a quiet voice, watching her face with wary eyes.

Tia Dalma snorted, and shook her head in disbelief. "We didn't get out of this hell yet, an' ye're already on yer way to another, Jack Sparrow", she said with a half-ironic, but sincerely sympathetic smile.

Jack let out a breath, looking at her in silence.

She smiled again, and continued: "Yer most reluctant rescuer's taken my globe. I need it to bring 'er back. Find me the globe, an' I'll bring 'er back, but I'll answer ye no questions, so don't ask them", said Tia Dalma slowly, her eyes strangely serious.

"An' what makes ye think I'd _like_ t' bring 'er back from wherever she is?", he asked with an artificial smirk.

Tia Dalma grinned. "For the same reason for which she went there", she answered slyly.

Jack blinked, knitting his eyebrows in confusion. "She killed me", he said simply, in a lighthearted tone of voice, his lips twitching into a small, sour smile.

"An' yet ye're alive", retorted Tia Dalma with a smile.

"Aye", agreed Jack almost inaudibly. "That's the whole bloody problem, isn't it?", he asked without a hint of irony in his voice.

Tia Dalma's smile softly faded away. "I don't have an answer to that, Jack", she said in a low voice.

"No idea why dear ol' Jack is breathin' again, then?", he forced a smile, his eyes still focused on her face, searching for clues.

She raised her hand to his face, and drew it across his cheek in a tender gesture. "No", she whispered. "I don't", she drew back her hand, and smiled. "Do ye?"

Jack narrowed his eyes, perplexed, or rather upset, his mind shuffling different thoughts. Thoughts, and mem-, no. Illusions. Thoughts, and illusions, and dreams...

There was at least one good reason why he might want her back: he could have his revenge when she would be back.

_Back in the whelp's arms._

_Oh, shut it._

But...why was the whelp not bringing her back? Where was she? If he did not want to bring her back, it was a good idea to bring her back, if only to do something against dear William.

"A globe", said Jack after a pause, staring absently into the distance.

Tia Dalma smiled contentedly. "Yes. A globe. A black, glass globe. Bring it to me, an' I bring 'er back."

* * *

_Elizabeth stood on the deck of the Black Pearl, enjoying the morning breeze, and the sound of the waves brushing against the ship. She smiled at the wind, and at the sea, inhaling the fresh scent of the ocean, of the Caribbean air, of freedom, and-_

"_Ye're an early bird, my swan."_

_She shivered, when his arms sneaked around her waist from behind, and she felt his lips trailing soft kisses along her neck._

"_I wanted to see the sunrise", she whispered, turning around in his arms to face him._

"_Without me?", he asked with mock-disbelief, crashing his lips against hers._

_She pressed herself as close to him as possible, kissing him with all the passion that she could find in her, her hands finding their way into his dreadlocked hair, pulling his head closer, and deepening the kiss._

_Suddenly, she cringed in surprise, when he broke the kiss abruptly, grabbing her by the wrists, and pushing her against the railing. She gasped, the hard wood digging painfully into her back._

"_Ja-"_

"_What are ye doin'?", he asked sharply, regarding her with cold, dark eyes._

_She stared at him with wide-eyes, confused. "What do you-", she started, but he cut her off._

"_No sense of honor? Or decency?", he mocked, and smiled contemptuously, and she felt a cold shiver running up her spine at the sound of pure disdain in his voice. And not even angry disdain, but just disdain – cold, and indifferent, and unfeeling._

"_Jack...", she whispered, leaning forward, but he tilted his head backwards with exaggerated disgust. Her heart sank._

"_Ye were right 'bout personal hygiene, though", he said, and she trembled under his piercing, scornful gaze. "I feel dirty already", he said with a grimace, and let go of her wrists, shooting her a disgusted look._

"_What's happened to you?", she whispered, not even trying to hold back the tears which were streaming down her face, making no impact on him whatsoever._

_He took out his pistol, and aimed it at her. She blinked._

"_Welcome back to the present, luv", he said with a sneer. And fired._

Elizabeth screamed, her eyes snapping open, as she sat upright, trying to catch her breath.

"Easy, easy."

She felt somebody rubbing her forearms reassuringly, and she needed a moment to calm down enough to see clearly the person before her; to see anything at all.

"Just a bad dream", he said with a smile, and Elizabeth's frantic gaze settled at last at the face of the man kneeling before her on the sand.

She looked at Bill Turner wordlessly, still trying to catch her breath. "A dream", she whispered, and he nodded.

"Alright?", he asked, looking at her hesitantly, and helping her to sit a little bit straighter.

Elizabeth took a deep breath. "Yes", she said shakily.

Bill smiled, and let go of her arms, rising to his feet, and walking a few steps away to the pile of wood gathered on the sand. He sat down with his face toward her, and send her a reassuring smile, before going back to what he had been doing before she had startled him with her screams. She stared at the wood acknowledging absently that he was preparing a bonfire.

A bonfire...

She also noticed some fruits, and fish placed on the green leaves. She took a cautious look around, still dazed from the nightmare.

"Where is Jack?", she asked in a low voice, watching Bill skillfully piling the pieces of wood.

"He went to bring more wood", answered Bill with a smile. "Supposedly."

Elizabeth arched an eyebrow. "It seems we have enough", she observed quietly, glancing at the pile, but then picked up at Bill's last word: "Supposedly?", she asked.

"I guess he wanted to be alone", replied Bill with a faint smile.

Elizabeth sighed, and nodded in understanding.

He looked at her with friendly interest for a moment, as she regarded with wonder the large leaves on which she had been sleeping. The leaves seemed to be made into some kind of mattress, and she smiled sadly to herself at the thought that Jack had probably made that for her, so she would not have to sleep on the sand itself.

"Are ye hungry, Miss?"

She shifted her eyes to Bill, and smiled, slowly recovering from the nightmare.

"It's Elizabeth", she said, rising to her feet, and walking over to the future bonfire.

"Bill", he said easily, extending his hand to her with a smile. "So, Elizabeth...", he started when they shook hands, and it crossed Elizabeth's mind that he needed eight years less than his son to start calling her Elizabeth, and she found it a little funny, even though thinking of Will was making her feel very sad. "How did ye know my son's name?", he asked in a simple voice, but somehow the question caught Elizabeth off guard.

"I heard your conversation with Jack", she answered after a pause, reaching for a stick, and absently patting it against the sand. "I was... in the other cabin", she added in a slightly shaky voice, the word 'bedroom' scaring her all of a sudden, and making her feel even more guilty. She cautiously lifted her eyes to Bill, who smiled at her cordially.

He nodded, and glanced around, before returning his eyes to her. "I've never mentioned his name during that conversation", he said, still smiling, and there was no suspicion, or irony in his voice. It seemed to be just a plain statement. And it appeared to Elizabeth, that there was even a hint of genuine amusement in his voice.

She stared at him dumbfounded. "I guess Jack must've mentioned it", she said at last, feeling awkward lying to him. It seemed that she was doing little more than lying all the time to everybody as of late, she thought bitterly.

"Aye", Bill smiled, apparently satisfied with that answer. "But... why did ye tell me to jump?", he inquired smilingly.

Elizabeth bit her lip, and sighed. "They would have killed you if you stayed", she said after a moment of consideration.

"Maybe", he agreed, for a moment drifting away in his thoughts.

"You needed the treasure to come back to England", said Elizabeth more to herself, than to him after watching him for a while, the realization dawning on her, as she tried to understand why he had stayed on the ship in the first place, that _other _time.

He shifted his eyes to her, and rubbed his forehead. "Better off alive, but poor, than dead, an' rich, aye?", he laughed half-heartedly.

"Yes", she said in a voice so solemn, that he looked at her almost questioningly, but she quickly rose to her feet, avoiding his gaze. "I'll go to find Jack", she said with a small smile, and went away into the direction showed by Bill.

As she walked along the waterline, she watched the sea sparkling beautifully in the morning sun. Almost subconsciously acknowledging that they were on their island.

She smiled to herself. _Their _island.

She spotted Jack sitting on the sand on the water edge. His knees half-bent, and the sea washing over his bare feet, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up above his elbows. The light wind tugged on his dreadlocks, making the trinkets in his hair jingle quietly. He seemed deep in thought, staring absently into the horizon, into the sea so calm now, so unlike the yesterday's furious, and dangerous abyss of dark waves.

Elizabeth walked over, and sat next to Jack on the sand, leaning her forehead against his shoulder. He had not noticed her approaching, and cringed at her touch, but then looked at her, and wordlessly draped his arm around her, and she tilted her head backwards, looked at him, and smiled faintly. He smiled back, but his smile was even paler than hers. There was almost no kohl left on his eyelids, and she noticed several cuts on his neck, and a gash on his arm where the sleeve was ripped.

Elizabeth frowned, and extended her hand toward the wound, but he caught her hand, and kissed the back of it. "I'm alright, Lizzie", he said in a slightly hoarse voice, and then cleared his throat, and inhaled deeply.

"Jack...", she whispered concernedly, looking at him tenderly, even though he kept looking straight ahead. She did not know what to say, what she should say, or do to make him feel better. She saw in his face not only pain caused by the loss of the _Black Pearl_, but also a trace of something new, something that she remembered from the future, a trace of disappointment, of distrust, of anger – the aftermath of betrayal, and humiliation; a trace of a new Jack. "You really did not believe me, did you, Jack?", she asked softly with a faint smile, brushing her lips against his cheek.

He did not answer, only lowered his head, and stared pensively at the sand instead of the sea.

"Why?", asked Elizabeth quietly, not sure whether she should be pressing him like that, but she really wanted to know why. Why he had had such a hard time allowing himself to believe that something like that could have happened.

He knitted his eyebrows, and inhaled sharply. She waited patiently, watching him, her hand still clasped in his.

She shuddered inwardly at the thought how much he must despise her, how much he must hate her in the future... For she had done that to him too... How could she have ever done something like that? Something so dreadfully similar, and yet so different, so much worse.

And she did not even know how much worse, until he at last told her why he had not believed her, and his answer almost swept her off her feet.

"I thought they liked me", he said quietly, not looking at her, and Elizabeth's heart clenched. She stared at him, her eyes wide from disbelief. And dismay.

That was it, then? That was why he had not believed her? He could not have given her a more heart-wrenching explanation. It was the worst possible answer.

_Why he must have thought when I kissed him?..._

"Oh, Jack...", she whispered slipping her hand out of his, and brushing away her tears. Then she cupped the side of his face, and leaned into him, pressing her lips to his. He kissed her back very lightly, and she felt that his mind was still clinging to some grim thoughts, unable to let go. She pulled away, and narrowed her eyes at him in mock-annoyance, feeling a twinge of pain in her heart, that although he kept her in a tight embrace, he looked at her pensively, almost sadly, and the seriousness in his eyes reminded her of the moment when he had decided that they should have left the _Black Pearl_ to escape the Kraken.

But she ignored the coldness evoked by the memory, and kissed him once again, trying to turn the kiss into a more passionate one, doing what he was always doing, forcing him to part his lips, and timidly, awkwardly exploring his mouth, and when she was slowly losing herself in the kiss, she felt his muscles tense, and with astonishment she realized that he... chuckled?!

"What's so funny?", she asked anxiously, pulling away, and looking at him incredulously, and for a moment fearing that it was her nightmare coming true.

But that was not it, for he looked at her with a genuine smile on his face. "Nothing", he shrugged, his eyes lightening with mischief. "It's just...", he pulled her closer, and smiled impishly. "It's just that ye're doing it all wrong, luv", he murmured against her lips, and slanted his mouth across hers, taking her breath, and all her grim thoughts away.

* * *

A tall man in a grey coat walked into one of the Tortuga's taverns slowly looking around, and taking in the surroundings. He grimaced lightly with disgust, and adjusted his grey hat on his head.

He ignored the barmaid who had asked him whether he wanted a drink, and walked past her, scanning the room.

_Right place_, he thought, squinting. _Wrong time._

He turned around, and made for the door, roughly pushing aside two drunken men who tried to enter the tavern, but kept missing the door.

_Almost right place. Totally wrong time._

The man in the grey coat walked quickly across Tortuga, soon reaching the sea. He stopped, and scanned the horizon searchingly, a small sneer lifting the corners of his mouth.

_Close. Very close._

Swiftly, he directed his steps toward the sea narrowing his colorless eyes in a complacent smile.

And if somebody would have watched him, he would have noticed in astonishment that in the mid-way to the sea, the man in the grey coat suddenly disappeared, the traces of his boots on the sand the only indication that he had been there at all.

But soon the traces of his boots disappeared as well.


	18. Chapter 18

A/N: _**Thank you so much for all the terrific reviews!**_

Disclaimer: I don't own POTC.

**Chapter 18**

His lips, warm, and gritty trailing soft kisses on her smooth skin that shivered under the gentle touch of his roughened hands, dragging her to heaven, to the heaven which seemed to hang right above them; the morning, impeccably blue sky glimmering in the sunshine, the sunshine in her eyes, blinding her even though her eyes were closed, and she could feel the light breeze of his breath brushing against her eyelashes, his lips descending onto her face, tantalizingly slowly gliding one, long kiss across her cheek, and her jawline, stopping on her lips, and capturing them in a breathtaking, ardent kiss. She moaned against his lips, against her will, tardily running her hands up his bare arms, trying to understand how she had lived before, not knowing how it was to feel his touch on her unclothed skin, to taste the desire on his sweet lips, to smother his scarred chest with her trembling kisses, to listen to him whispering her name in that low, faltering, sensual voice that melted her thoughts, her guilt, her fears...

"Ye're me treasure... me silver an' gold..."

Elizabeth smiled, and opened her eyes to look into his brown orbs smoldering in the bright sunlight, but she felt as if it was a perfectly black, velvety night around them, his fathomless, glimmering eyes the only source of light in the darkness.

She looked at him, and he looked at her, and for a moment they just stared at each other with faint smiles on their faces.

"I'm no treasure," breathed Elizabeth with a sad smile. "I'm trouble."

Jack smiled, and traced the contour of her face with his forefinger. "No." He leaned down, and kissed her upper lip. "Ye're me sweet miracle, Lizzie."

She closed her eyes, and arched her back when he slid his hands underneath her, and pulled her dress down her shoulders, lifting her up, and lying her down closer to the waterline where the sand was smoother, and more stable. She shivered at the feeling of coolness under her back, and he quickly gathered her in his arms, and kissed her fiercely, the coldness thawing like snow in the sunlight, and she was thawing in his arms, reaching to pull him closer, always closer, and yet it never felt as if it was close enough.

He kissed her, and the sound of the waves in her ears was replaced by the beating of her heart, and once again she found herself caring neither for the past, nor for the future; for nothing but those coarse, gentle hands, and those warm lips guiding her through paradise, and she was lost, lost in the feeling of completeness, lost in bliss, lost, and yet conscious enough to whisper confessions, and pleas into his ear, to drink in his smiles through her half-lidded eyes.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw the infinite blueness of the sea, the waves timidly creeping toward them, threatening to reach them, and take them away, and she clung to him, cradled his face with her hands, and kissed his lips, his cheeks, his eyelids.

Tangled in each other, they were rolling on those waves, possessive, and soothing, calm, and tempestuous, and she cried out, shivering, and gasping for air, for him, for another kiss.

And he kissed her again, breaking through the waves within them, carrying her in his arms through the tormented sea of their faltering voices.

He buried his head in her hair, in the crook of her neck, and she held him, his chest rising, and falling in her arms, his breathing slowly calming down along with hers.

"Will ye stay with me, Lizzie?" His voice vibrated close to her ear after a long moment of beautiful silence.

Elizabeth smiled. "Not that... I have much choice... being stuck with you... on a deserted island," she muttered breathlessly, trying hard to keep her voice serious.

She felt Jack smile against her skin, his beard tickling her neck. "But when ye'll have a choice, Lizzie," he whispered. "Will ye stay with me when ye'll have a choice?"

There was something ethereal about her, and it both fascinated, and worried him... He felt as if she could disappear at any moment, and the very possibility of losing her was causing him pain. And it did not matter that he had known her for three days; it did not matter that she was apparently hiding something; nothing mattered if only he could hold her in his arms, and never let go...

Elizabeth wanted to continue giving Jack jocularly evasive answers, but then something in his question struck her, and she felt a twinge of cold piercing through her heart.

"_Will ye stay with me when ye'll have a choice?"_

"Lizzie?"

"_He elected to stay behind."_

"Lizzie?"

Elizabeth blinked the tears away, when Jack rolled on his side, and pulled her into his arms.

"Lizzie...," he brought his hand to her face, and wrinkled his forehead.

Elizabeth bit her lower lip, curled up, and cuddled into him as close as possible. "I love you," she whispered, and he tightened his embrace, and lightly propped her head with his hand, brushing his lips all over her face. Elizabeth smiled, and opened her eyes. "Don't give me a choice," she whispered in a faltering voice, looking at him solemnly. "Take me, keep me, don't let me go, don't let me go, Jack."

He stared at her for a moment in what looked like amazement, but she was not sure, not until his lips curled into that lopsided grin of his, and he crashed his mouth against hers, capturing her lips in a bruising kiss.

"Let's repeat the takin' part just to make sure that I got it right", he murmured against her lips, while she tried to catch her breath. She stared at him wide-eyed, and breathless, when he was once again above her, kissing her softly on the lips.

"I didn't mean... I mean...", she took a deep breath, and gasped, when his hand travelled along her body. She closed her eyes, and for a moment let herself just revel in his touch, when suddenly a thought crossed her hazy mind. "What if your friend decides to take a walk, and...", she asked in a slightly panicked tone of voice, her eyes snapping open.

_Will's father, he's Will's father!... He's... almost Will..._

"What 'bout it?" Questioned Jack with a smile. "I'm sure he'll be a gentleman, an' turn 'round before trippin' over us," he lowered his lips to her breasts, and Elizabeth tilted her head backwards, digging her head into the sand. "Besides...," he lifted his head, and looked at her smilingly. "It didn't bother ye a moment ago, luv," he waggled his eyebrows suggestively, and kissed her.

"A moment ago I wasn't thinking clearly...", whispered Elizabeth dreamily, brushing her lips against his as she spoke.

Jack's eyes widened. "Ye mean that ye're actually able to think _clearly _right now?" He asked with utter disbelief, putting on a hurt look.

Elizabeth wrapped her arms around him, and giggled. "Yes," she said teasingly.

"I shall fix that in no time," whispered Jack with a roguish smile, and was about to kiss her again, when suddenly an unusually high wave swept over them with a splash, filling their mouths, nostrils, ears, and eyes with cool sea water.

Jack groaned, and Elizabeth squealed, and they quickly sat up, coughing, and trying to shake the water out of their ears.

"T' was not the best idea," admitted Jack with a pout.

Elizabeth laughed, and snuggled into his chest. "Yes, it was. I liked it," she said decidedly, coughing between sentences.

Jack stopped coughing, and smiled at Elizabeth pensively. They locked eyes, and wordlessly cuddled against each other. He rested his head against hers, and they sat in silence, listening to the waves.

Elizabeth pressed her cheek against Jack's chest, and was surprised when she suddenly realized how comfortable, and safe she felt... Being naked in his arms, in the broad daylight she should feel embarrassed, but somehow she did not. And it was even more astonishing, because she used to feel embarrassed around Will when her sleeve would have accidentally fallen down her shoulder... But maybe it had embarrassed her, because it had embarrassed Will... Or maybe... Maybe she had just been uncertain of herself...

But now it was different. Now she felt confident, and... admired?... If that was the right word... She was not sure whether it was that, or maybe something else, something less palpable, like...

Love. Maybe it was as simple as that. Maybe... And yet there was something else yet, still, something connected with Jack... He was making her feel safe, not only with himself, but also with... herself. She had never given it much thought before, but now she felt that she had never had a defined picture of herself, she had never thought whether she actually _liked_ herself... whether she was pretty... or smart... or anything else... She had heard _words _describing her from other people, and depending on how much she had cared of those people, that much she had also cared of their opinions. But still, none of those opinions were really _hers_. She had never really known whom she was, until... until she had met him.

She smiled to herself, and closed her eyes, wishing for this one moment to last forever.

* * *

"I still don't understand why am I asked to leave my cabin," said Will standing in front of his cabin's door. He folded his arms across his chest, and stared at Jack pointedly, but for some reason Jack seemed to have forgotten his own request, because he stood motionlessly, staring into the distance with the most peculiar expression on his face. Will looked around the corridor, annoyed. "Are you still here, Jack?" He asked with slight impatience.

Jack blinked, and finally looked at him, knitting his eyebrows together. "What?" He asked irritatedly, narrowing his eyes at Will, more in confusion than in anger.

"I said that I don't understand why..."

Jack rubbed his forehead, Will's words dispersing in the air, despite his efforts to concentrate. He had just had a very _weird _impression, that- No, not an impression... It was something else, it was that hallucination-like... thing, again. That... that... He growled inwardly. Whatever _that _was it felt damn real, and damn... good, too good, in fact, even though it was the most _irrational _mem- (what?!) _dream _that he had ever had, and also the most repulsive (_re-pul-sive!_)one.

He closed his eyes just to get rid of that im-, of that _bloody _image, of that bloody woman, why couldn't she just go to hell, oh, wait, she just had gone to hell, only he should have left her there instead of letting her sail back to the world of the living on his ship. Conscious or not, he should have left her in the Locker. She might have had a grand awakening there, once she would have woken up.

Woken up... _"More than asleep, less than dead."_

"Jack!"

Jack jumped, and opened his eyes, looking at Will in annoyance. "What?" He shouted, causing Will to take one step backwards, and bump against his own cabin's door.

"You're asking me a question, and the you're not listening to my answer!" Replied Will sternly, glaring at him.

Although the surprising news that Elizabeth had, in fact, been the reason of Jack's 'death', and that she had left him to the Kraken were somehow, in some odd way soothing to Will, he still felt uncomfortable about the entire display that he had witnessed, and that _kiss_ haunted his thoughts probably more than it should. He looked at Jack feeling very much inclined to draw out his sword, and just... cut him in a half. He was sure it would have made him feel much better.

"It's not my fault that yer answers are so insipid that they fail to attract my attention," retorted Jack, wrinkling his forehead, and turning around abruptly. He walked away hastily, leaving bewildered Will, and the black globe that he had hoped to fetch from his cabin behind him-

_Ah!_

Jack turned around. "An' for yer future reference," he said lifting his hand in a tutorial gesture, coming back toward Will. "It's _my _ship, an' therefore there's no such a thing as _your _cabin on _my _ship. Savvy?"

_If he says 'no', I'll have 'im locked in the brig._

"Yes," replied Will slowly, pouring as much venom in that one-syllable word as he could.

_Bugger._

"Wonderful!" Jack smiled at him wryly, and walked away.

_Not that there would be much use in lockin' 'im up right now. I'll lock 'im up when she wakes up..._

He opened the door, and walked into the cabin.

_... so he would not interrupt me in kill-_

Jack blinked.

_... in kiss-... killss... kisslling her!! BuggerBuggerBugger_

He turned around angrily, hardly believing that he had mistaken the cabins again!... That was just ridiculous.

He turned away from Elizabeth, and reached for the doorknob, but did not pull it because...

... the door was already open.

Will stood in the doorway glaring daggers at him. "What are you doing here?", he asked through his gritted teeth, trying to overcome the cold astonishment that had washed over him, when he had watched Jack stroll down the corridor, and... walk straight to Elizabeth's cabin!

Jack twitched his nose. "As I told ye, it's my ship, an' therefore there's no such a thing as...", he trailed off, and narrowed his eyes, "here!", he added triumphantly, pushed Will out of the way, and stormed out of the cabin.

Will blinked, and wrinkled his forehead trying, to no avail, comprehend Jack's last statement.

* * *

"Ah, there ye are," Bill Turner smiled at Jack and Elizabeth who slowly approached their little camp, holding each other's hands.

Elizabeth stared at her bare feet very intently, trying to avoid Bill Turner's gaze. There was nothing in his voice that indicated that he had seen anything, but she felt uncomfortable with the very idea that he _might _have accidentally walked away from their small camp, and seen her and Jack together...

Jack sat cross-legged in the sand, pulling Elizabeth down beside him. She met his gaze, and he smiled at her such a warm, calm smile, that it almost made her cry. Again. It was strange, for when she was with him here, she felt simultaneously elated, and distraught, as if those two emotions were inseparable: love and grief; happiness and guilt; pain and bliss.

"We've to find the way to get off this island," said Bill Turner casually, holding back a chuckle at the sight of his fellow castaways staring into each other's eyes, as if suddenly the world around them disappeared.

"Aye," said Jack quickly, snapping back into the reality.

Elizabeth drew up her legs, and rested her chin on her knees, absently smoothing down the folds of her dress, and once again giving in to that cold, empty feeling of guilt.

Only this time she could not differentiate between the guilt toward Will, and guilt toward Jack... Maybe it was because it was the same feeling of guilt... a two-sided feeling of guilt... one side marked by betrayal, and the other side marked by... another betrayal.

But only one of them was lethal.

"Lizzie-luv, I do know that this fish ain't lookin' too... invitin', but it'd be a great mistake not to eat it, seein' that it's as good as our meals can get here, I'm afraid."

Jack's voice shook Elizabeth out of her reverie, and she looked at him in puzzlement. He smiled, draped his arm around her shoulders, and pulled her close to him, gathering her in his arms. She was too surprised to protest, not expecting him to be so openly affectionate toward her in the presence of... other people. She could hardly imagine that Jack from the future would have behaved in this way.

"We can wait for passing ships...", offered Elizabeth uncertainly, remembering what Jack had told her when they had been marooned on this island before... And then she also remembered something else: rum.

How come they had not found the rum yet? Probably when Jack was here alone, he had had more time for exploring the island, and therefore he must have quickly come across the cache. She glanced over her shoulder toward where she remembered the rum was stored.

"Aye. But some of those passin' ships may wish us to pass away," observed Bill good-humouredly.

Jack smiled, and Elizabeth leaned closed toward him, resting her head on his shoulder, almost envious of... herself at the moment.

What would it be like to be only 'Lizzie'?

It crossed her mind that she hardly remembered being somebody else... Even thought they had spent merely three days together... Three days, and she had already lost the sense of her old self, and she was not sure whether she wanted to restore it... Whether she wanted to go back... If she could go back... Could she go back? She kept forgetting that she still did not really know what had happened, what had happened to the medallion, why she had not died, why she was still here, with him... It hurt her to think that every moment could be the last one, that every second here was threatened by something that she could not name, but she felt that it was inescapable, that sooner or later something was going to happen, and everything that was happening now would turn into the mist, and she would either die, or go back to the reality in which there was no Captain Jack Sparrow anymore, because she had betrayed him, she had killed him, she-

Elizabeth's train of thought was suddenly interrupted by the taste of something sweet on her tongue. She blinked, and noticed that... she was actually being fed by Jack!?

She opened her mouth to protest, but he only used this opportunity to put a small piece of fruit into her mouth.

"One thing 'bout me Lizzie is that she likes to fall deep in thought," said Jack , smirking slightly.

Bill Turner chuckled, more at the disconcert expression on Elizabeth's face, than at Jack's words.

Elizabeth stared at Jack, subconsciously letting him feed her, while she was pondering his words. _"Me Lizzie..."_

* * *

Jack walked into his cabin, and slammed the door shut behind him.

He could not decide what annoyed him most: those irritating, _ridiculous_ dreams, unconscious traitors, conscious whelps, undead mutineers, or secretive witches. Ah, and not to forget unhelpful first mates, and Singaporean pirates with some undoubtedly hideous intentions.

Jack hastily approached his desk, and perused through his maps, not looking for anything in particular.

He piled up some charts, just for the sake of piling them up, and then accidentally brushed his sleeve against some sheets of papers, which flew off the desk, and fell onto the floor. Jack rolled his eyes, and bent down to pick up the papers, glancing at them without much interest, before putting them away. But then suddenly he stilled his movements, and stared at one of the papers, at the... drawing, a frown forming on his face.

He did not even remember when he had drawn it. Probably on one of those nights when he could not sleep, when he had wandered around his ship, plotting the course for getting the key, and the chest, his mind betraying him, and drifting away elsewhere.

'Was she already married by now?' He remembered that question waking him up when he had finally managed to fall asleep, and then he would get off the bed in annoyance, and draw maps, and... her portraits – out of annoyance, out of sleeplessness, out of-

He clenched his fist, crumpling the paper with an angry huff. He threw the paper on the floor, and fought back the urge to stomp on it. He stared at it angrily for a moment, and then, suddenly remembering that if Will had followed him to Elizabeth's cabin, chances were that he was still there, therefore he could check Will's cabin in the meantime, and perhaps find that black globe that Tia Dalma wanted (because he, of course, did not care), so she would bring Elizabeth back (if she wanted to bring her back so much), from wherever she was, to wherever else (the lowest circle of hell, preferably).

Quickly, he walked to the door, but stopped abruptly before opening them. He twitched his nose, looked right, and left, and swirled around, his gaze falling upon the scrambled paper on the floor. He looked at the paper peevishly, as if it was actually the paper that was making him do what he was doing, which was walking up to it, picking it up, and holding it between his two fingers while carrying it to his desk. Once at his desk, he opened a drawer, and... frowned.

He stuffed the paper into the drawer which was already full of similar drawings...

He closed the drawer angrily, almost causing the desk to collapse on its side.

Then he stormed off the Captain's Quarters heading for Will's cabin.

* * *

The fire had been ignited, and the smoked fish tasted much better than a raw one would, although Elizabeth purposefully pretended to be reluctant to eat it, so that Jack was forced to help her, feeding her like a small child, which she found quite amusing. Bill Turner concentrated on his meal, and on telling them some stories from his life, telling them about his wife, and his son (and Elizabeth tried not to choke every time Will's name was being mentioned).

They successfully avoided the topic of the mutiny, and the discussion about what had happened in general. It felt almost as if they were on an voluntary excursion, but Elizabeth still felt the tension in the air, the tension in Jack's mind, although with every passing moment he was covering it up better. But she felt it nonetheless, she felt that a part of him was still thinking about what had happened, trying to analyze it, to understand it, to _believe _it. _"I thought that they liked me."_ His words clung to her, and she knew that she would never forget the expression on his face when he had said that. Neither would she ever see that expression again... Even if he would have been still alive, she knew that he would have never let her see it. Not ever. Not after what she had done...

Falling into her grim thoughts again, Elizabeth proposed taking a walk around the island, her aim being having them at last discover the rum cache. She had hoped that it would cheer Jack up, if only a little, and soon she was proved right watching with slight amusement Jack and Bill opening the hiding place, and grinning at the discovery.

Although she was also determined not to let anybody drink too much.

"Luv, could ye get that branch from over there?" Asked Jack, his head appearing just above the ground as he pointed toward their little camp with a complacent smile.

Elizabeth narrowed her eyes. "And now I'm reduced to a branch-bringer, just because of some cache full of rum", she pouted, holding back laughter at Jack's exaggeratedly dismayed facial expression.

"I'd hate ye to understand it that way, darlin'. Please, forgive me", she smiled, getting out of the cache.

"No!" Elizabeth stopped him with a giggle. "I wasn't serious. I'll get it," she laughed, and ran to the bonfire which was sparkling in the distance.

* * *

Jack knocked on Will's door just to make sure that he was not in his cabin, although it was utterly ridiculous to knock on his own door, on his own ship. He pushed the door open, and taking a quick, surreptitious look around sneaked inside, quietly closing the door behind him.

The cabin was neatly kept (_he's probably cleanin' it three hours a day_, thought Jack drily), and rather empty. He looked around, half-hoping that Will had not hidden the globe too well, if at all.

He searched the drawers, and the wardrobe, and looked under the bed. Nothing. There were only so many placed in the cabin where he could have put it, although of course he might have as well put it not in his cabin, but somewhere else.

Jack wrinkled his forehead, and was about to leave, when suddenly something caught his attention. He cautiously swaggered towards the corner of the cabin where he saw a pair of shoes covered with some cloths, and a hat (a very ugly hat, to be sure.) He wriggled his fingers above the strange display for a moment, before reaching for the hat, and lifting it abruptly.

Behind the tall, worn off shoes on the floor in the corner sat a round, black, glimmering object. Jack grinned.

* * *

Elizabeth reached the bonfire smirking to herself, her eyes searching for the piece of wood that she had been asked to bring, when all of a sudden she froze, feeling that something was wrong even before she actually saw it...

Slowly, she lifted her gaze from the sand, her eyes widening at the sight of somebody standing next to the bonfire with his back turned to her, his gloved hands clasped behind his back. The man was wearing a heavy, grey coat, and the very sight was suffocating, the grey, thick fabric looking odd, and for some reason ghastly in the hot Caribbean sun.

Elizabeth's breath caught, and her mind began to spin, and she instinctively made a step backwards hoping that the man had not heard her approaching. But as soon as she noiselessly started to turn around, the man's voice stopped her:

"Too late to run."

Elizabeth made a slow step backwards as the man sluggishly turned around, meeting her gaze. She stared into his eyes, his grey eyes, which were grey, and yet not grey at all, because they were colorless, expressionless; empty.

"You cannot outrun the time, because the time will always outrun you." The man took a step forward. "Your time is up", he whispered in a hollow voice, smiling wryly.


	19. Chapter 19

A/N: _**Thank you so much for all the beautiful reviews!**_

Happy Valentine's Day:)

Disclaimer: Jack, Elizabeth, etc. belong to Disney.

**Chapter 19**

Back in his cabin, Jack put the black globe on his desk, and looked at it closely, trying to figure out what the strange object could do, and whether there was a way of doing something useful with it without consulting Tia Dalma.

She was going to use it to bring Elizabeth back (whatever that bloody meant), but certainly there was more to the globe than that.

Besides, he did not really want Elizabeth back. Why would he? Bringing her back had nothing to do with him. He did not care. She could never wake up, as far as he was concerned. She could just sleep forever, or die, or do whatever she wanted. It was of no interest, or concern, or anything else to him. He did not care. He did not bloody care if she lived or died. Blasted woman, what had gotten into him to dive after her all those months ago. She should have drown.

"_It must have been terrible for you to be trapped on this island."_

He grimaced, and hid his head in his hands. That was probably why he now had all those ridiculous dreams about being trapped on that island with her, only not with her like before, when they had danced, and sung, and when he had eventually got - more or less deliberately – drunk; now he was haunted by the dream of them being trapped there together (and for some weird reason in this dream Bill Turner was also trapped there with them??). And as they were trapped together they were doing all those things that they should have been doing when they were trapped there for the first-

...that is for the second-

Jack uncovered his face.

...for the _only _time.

He wrinkled his forehead in confusion, and darted his eyes to the black globe suspiciously.

* * *

"Who are you?" Elizabeth took a step backwards, looking at the man in grey coat in puzzlement. 

The man smiled sourly. "I'm here to restore the order which you have disturbed," he said slowly, taking a few steps toward her.

Elizabeth stared at him wide-eyed, some vague ideas circulating in her head.

"Time cannot be bested," said the man, regarding her coolly, his colourless eyes boring into hers with painful intensity.

"Lizzie?" Elizabeth jumped at the sound of Jack's voice. "Lizzie? Is everything-" Jack suddenly appeared next to her, and, even knowing that it could probably neither help her, nor him, she threw herself into his arms.

"The treasure is cursed," she whispered into his ear, when he closed her arms around her protectively, trying to ask her something, but she cut him off. "Don't come to Port Royal, don't rescue me."

"Lizzie," Jack wrinkled his forehead, drawing backwards, and cupping her face in his hands. "What's wrong?"

Elizabeth glanced over her shoulder, and looked at the man in grey, who watched the scene with a small, sardonic smile hovering over his lips. Jack followed Elizabeth's gaze, scanning the empty surroundings in confusion.

"Lizzie, what is it?" He asked, darting his eyes back to her, studying her face anxiously. She was crying - once again crying, and shaking.

"He'll take me away... or kill me... I don't know, it doesn't matter," her voice faltered, and she looked behind her once again.

Jack furrowed his brows. "Who?" He asked, staring at her incredulously.

Elizabeth looked at him uncertainly, then turned around to look at the stranger. "Him," she whispered through her tears.

Jack blinked, and for a moment looked around. "But...," he sighed, and quickly pulled Elizabeth into an embrace. "It's alright, Lizzie, look at me, it's alright."

Elizabeth shook her head, and looked at him questioningly. Why was he not surprised that there was an oddly looking stranger-

She drew back, staring up at Jack, stupefied. "Jack, you don't see him?"

Jack's mouth twitched. "See whom, luv?" He gently cupped her face in his hands, looking at her worriedly.

"Past cannot be changed," said the man, his expressionless eyes fixed on Elizabeth.

She glanced at him, and subconsciously snuggled closer to Jack. Closing her eyes, she tried to memorize this moment, to memorize it quickly, to carve it so deep in her heart that she would never forget how it felt to be in his embrace, never forget his scent, the warmth of his skin, the sound of his voice.

"Those who attempt to change the past have to learn that it cannot be changed."

Elizabeth leaned toward Jack, and kissed him softly on the lips. "I'm sorry."

"Is everything alright?" Bill Turner emerged from between the palm trees, carrying several rum bottles in his arms.

"Aye," answered Jack unconvincingly, stroking Elizabeth's cheek with the back of his hand.

"No," whispered Elizabeth, hot tears slowly flowing down her cheeks. "I will go soon. Please, remember me," she smiled brokenly. "Or no," she added hurriedly, wrinkling her forehead. "Don't remember me. And don't come to Port Royal. Never," she looked at him intensely.

"Shhh," whispered Jack, placing the palm of his hand over Elizabeth's forehead, and then pulling her into tight embrace. "Ye've a fever, luv."

Bill Turner approached them, and looked at Jack questioningly.

"No, Jack, please, promise me!" Elizabeth tugged on his shirt, looking at him pleadingly.

"They have to learn what time really is." The voice was piercing, and unpleasant like cold wind, and it washed over Elizabeth like a wave of icicles. Somehow she had an impression that she was not going to simply come back to the future.

"Calm down, luv, it's alright, I'm here," whispered Jack ardently, scolding himself inwardly for ignoring all those earlier, _obvious _signs of some mental illness from which she apparently suffered. He should have taken better care of her, he should have tried to find out what was wrong with her. It was careless, and irresponsible to just ignore those symptoms when they were only mild, while now they were getting more serious. If she was seeing things... It was not good. Not good at all.

"They have to learn what time can really do."

"I don't care!" Screamed Elizabeth glancing over her shoulder. "And I'm not afraid, because I don't care!"

Jack stared at Elizabeth in dismay.

"Who is she talking to?" Asked Bill Turner in a whisper, looking around uncertainly.

Jack shot him a blank look.

"They have to learn that time always prevails," the man slowly reached into his pocket, and pulled out a silver pistol.

Elizabeth's eyes widened, and she snatched herself away from Jack's embrace, afraid that the bullet meant for her might hit him. A pale, cold smile flitted across the man's lips when without tearing his eyes off Elizabeth he aimed his pistol at... Bill Turner.

* * *

Cautiously, Jack opened his cabin's door, and looked into the corridor to see if anybody was there. Luckily, the hall was empty, so he hid the globe under his coat, and went out of the Captain's Quarters, quietly creeping toward Elizabeth's cabin. 

He looked at her cabin's door sternly, preparing himself for snapping a more or less sensible order should Will still be in there. He knocked rather loudly, and waited. Nothing. He knocked again, and after surreptitiously glancing right and left, pressed the doorknob.

Except for bloody 'less than dead more than asleep' Elizabeth, the cabin was empty.

Jack closed the door behind him, and walked towards Elizabeth, for a moment feeling strangely giddy at the sight of her lying so peacefully on the bed, her golden her spread on the pillow, making her look like an angel.

_Angel_, Jack snorted to himself, taking the black globe out from under his coat, and throwing the coat on a nearby chair. _Devil, more likely._

He slumped onto the bed, and put the globe in his lap, looking at Elizabeth suspiciously.

_Devilishly beautiful angel- _He grimaced. _Oh, shut it._

Tapping his fingers on the cool glass of the globe, Jack stared at Elizabeth stubbornly, as if expecting her to open her eyes, and end that nonsense.

Perhaps he really should just take this globe to Tia Dalma, but he knew that she would not tell him anything, and the idea that there was something that he was not supposed to know not so much intrigued him, as it certainly annoyed him. He wanted to know what was going on, and whether that strange state that Elizabeth was in had something to do with him.

_Bloody wench_, he thought irately, discovering that calling her that was actually making him feel better.

For a while. Because after a moment he felt guilty, and felt like punching himself.

He still had to punch Barbossa. He could also punch the whelp for... arrogance. He could punch Pintel for sweeping the deck too slowly. Or Cotton for... not talking.

He groaned, and rested his head against the black globe. He felt like hitting, punching, and shooting anybody, or rather... _everybody_. Everybody, but...

Her.

Closing his eyes, he gritted his teeth, and sighed inwardly. He would have never done anything to harm her. Her, she would have never betrayed. He would have never left her behind. He would have never let her down, even if that would have cost him more than he had to spare. No matter how foolish it might have been, he would have always risked _everything_ to save her.

An unpleasant wave of overwhelming heat washed over his mind at those thoughts that he had never allowed himself to think consciously before. He had never put them into words.

He opened his eyes, and saw his own reflection in the black glass staring back at him.

But it did not matter. It did not matter anymore.

He could have betrayed everybody, but her, while she had not betrayed anybody else... but him. As simple as that. Simple, and easy to remember.

And let him be damned to the Locker again, if he would ever forget that.

* * *

Elizabeth's eyes widened. "No!" She screamed. "Please, don't do it!" She looked at the man in grey with determination. 

Jack and Bill exchanged worried looks.

"Lizzie," Jack cautiously came up to her, and put his hands on her shoulders, gently turning her around. "There's nobody here. Only us," he said in as calm, and firm a voice as he could muster.

"Why does it matter?" Elizabeth turned around in Jack's arms, looking at the man intensely. "It's just... a small change, a life saved, it won't do no harm to anybody!"

Jack rested his head against the back of Elizabeth's head, burying his face in her hair. "Lizzie-luv..." he sighed frustratedly, not really knowing what to do. "Lizzie, please, it's only me, there's nobody else, look at me," he tried to turn her around, so she would face him again, but she resisted.

The herald's colourless eyes glittered strangely. "A small change?" He raised his eyebrows, and snorted under his breath. "And who are you to make even a small change? Who are you to decide?"

Elizabeth averted her eyes. "So much pain could be avoided, so much sorrow...," she whispered, staring at the sand, and suddenly feeling Jack's lips on her neck.

"Who are ye talkin' to, luv, I'm right here," he whispered, and for the first time it occurred to Elizabeth that if Jack had thought her to be strange before, now he certainly thought her to be crazy.

As if it mattered... Soon, she would be gone.

"And what would you do to avoid it?" The voice, cold and clear, made Elizabeth's heart skip a bit. She stared at the man in grey with wide eyes.

"Anything!" She exclaimed with a broken smile, hardly believing that there apparently was a way out of this situation. "I don't care what happens to me. Just save them. Both of them. They are both dead," she added in a whisper.

An ironic smile flitted across the man's lips. "Two lives. That's a lot to ask, you know," he stared at her intently for a while, and for a moment she felt as if his gaze was dragging her into some abyss, dark, and frightening, and she would have no strength to keep herself from falling, if it was not for Jack's lips trailing kisses on her neck, and on the side of her face.

"Shhh, luv, it's alright, these are only dreams, whatever you're seeing right now, these are only bad dreams, I'm here, Lizzie, please, listen to me, Lizzie-luv."

"I know," said Elizabeth in a low voice, steadily returning the herald's gaze. "What would be the price?"

Jack's eyes flew wide-open at the word.

"_So... what would be the price for me little boat?" Asked Jack, baring his teeth in a half-hearted smile._

"_A price," Davy Jones sighed in mock-consideration, his eyes wandering around the Flying Dutchman's main deck, until they focused on the young captain again. _

_Davy Jones smiled, a smile that sent cold shivers up Jack's spine. "Your soul," he said, squinting._

"_Me soul?" Repeated Jack, raising his eyebrows. "How... fairy-taley-like." He smiled, and Davy Jones snorted, and somehow that snort told Jack that as ridiculous as it all sounded, it was nothing, but serious. Serious, and ill-boding. And dangerous. And... it was a bad idea. It was a very bad idea. Wrong decision. Bad choice. Not an opportune moment in disguise, but a bad, BAD idea._

_But he was Captain Jack Sparrow._

"_Agreed!"_

"Lizzie?" His grip on her shoulders tightened, but she was so engrossed by whatever was going on in her head that she did not even glance at him. "Lizzie, who are ye talkin' to?" He asked urgently, as for the very first time it suddenly occurred to him, that perhaps it was not her who was seeing non-existent things, but rather him who was _not_ seeing them.

After all, he had traded his soul to the legendary Davy Jones after finding his ghastly ghost ship, so perhaps he was not the best person to judge what was real, and what was not.

Elizabeth looked at the man in grey expectantly, while he studied her face in silence for a longer while.

"Lizzie!" Jack's voice became louder, and he spun her around in his arms almost forcefully, to make her look at him. "Lizzie!"

But she once again snatched herself away from his embrace, and took a few steps toward the stranger.

"What is the price?" She asked, beginning to doubt that the man's offer was serious. Perhaps he was just toying with her, giving her false hope only to shatter it to pieces in the next moment.

"Ten years of your life," said the man in a firm, dark voice. "For each life."

Elizabeth blinked. "You mean... I would die ten, twenty years earlier than-"

"What?" Jack ran to stand in front Elizabeth, but she took a step to the side.

"No," the herald smiled. "Ten years of your life for each life that you intend to save. Counting from now on."

Elizabeth wrinkled her forehead in confusion. "And then?"

"Then you would come back, and live on."

"Come back from where?" Asked Elizabeth, narrowing her eyes.

"Come back from where?" Echoed Jack anxiously.

The man smiled. "From the Maelstrom of Time."

* * *

Jack jumped at the sound of Elizabeth's voice, and darted his eyes to her face. There was a grimace on her face, and she tilted her head to the side with a gasp. 

He leaned forward (to see her facial expression), and brushed a lock of her hair away from her face (to see her facial expression better), accidentally touching her cheek with the back of his hand- No, not accidentally. But only to check if she had a fever.

A fever!... That's right. Checking for fever...

He pressed his open palm to her forehead, but it was not particularly hot. He touched her cheeks with both hands, and brushed his thumbs across her lips to... what was he doing?... Oh, yes. Checking whether she had a fever.

She moaned quietly, and he drew his hands away abruptly, frowning. Was she hurting? Was something wrong with her? Was she sick? Maybe she was in a coma? Maybe she got sick, and they just had not told him, but then again what would 'bringing her back' had to do with sickness... Bringing her back to health?... Perhaps... Yet he felt that there was something else to it. He glanced at the globe in his lap. Black and mysterious. And silent. If only he knew what to do with it. If only he knew 'where' she was. But it seemed that he had to go to Tia Dalma after all, and then try to find out what it was all about afterwards.

He inhaled deeply, and shifted his eyes to Elizabeth, and noticed that her hands were tugging on the bed cover, fists clenched so hard that her knuckles were almost white. He swallowed wondering what on Earth she was getting through, cold anxiety running through him like a flash of bright light. Almost involuntarily he reached for her hand, and tried to unclench it with his both hands. He outstretched her fingers, and lie her hand on the bed cover, and then did the same thing with her other hand. He leaned forward, and wrinkled his forehead at the sight of her face twisted in a grimace.

He hated her.

But what he, apparently, hated more, was seeing her suffer.

She was suffering, something was wrong, something was very wrong, and there was no time for solving mysteries right now. He had to go to Tia Dalma, and go to her immediately, so she would bring that damn angel back from whatever hell she was in at the moment.

Without tearing his eyes off Elizabeth's face Jack leaped to his feet-

And as soon as he stood up his eyes widened, and he felt a wave of cold dread washing over him a moment before he actually heard the noise of breaking glass.

* * *

"Lizzie?" Jack blinked, staring at the empty air before him, at the place where she was just a moment ago. He turned around, and looked questioningly at Bill Turner who stood wide-eyed, and equally baffled. "Where is she?" He asked in a hollow voice, spinning, and looking around frantically. 

"I-I don't know," muttered Bill Turner scanning the surroundings. "She was here, an'- I don't know, she just..."

Jack darted his eyes to him. "She disappeared," he whispered, his eyes widening in dismay. "She disappeared," he repeated incredulously, looking at Bill Turner expectantly, as if hoping that he would contradict him.

But Bill only looked at him blankly, as baffled, and astonished as Jack.

The man in grey coat stared at the spot where Elizabeth had stood, his forehead wrinkled, his eyes narrowed.

Somebody had taken her back to her times.

He smiled sourly. Not that it was going to affect their agreement.

Only that now he had to find her again. Which should not take too long.

With a frown, he turned around, and walked away, disappearing half-way to the sea.

* * *

Jack stared at the shards of the black globe in dismay. What had he done? _What the hell have ye done ye-_

"No!" Elizabeth bolted upright, her eyes snapping open.

Jack stumbled backwards in surprise, almost tripping over his own feet.

Elizabeth put her head in his hands, trying to catch her breath, trying to understand what had just happened. Last thing that she remembered was blinding brightness encompassing her, that suddenly changed into the absolute, pitch-black darkness, dragging her in. And she was falling, floating, flying in the air, in the wind, in the nothingness...

Slowly, she uncovered her face, her breathing still ragged, her eyes hazy. She hugged herself feeling strangely cold. She looked around-

She was in a cabin. On a ship.

_I came back_, she thought disbelievingly, recognizing the surroundings, the cabin in which she had been staying on their journey to the Locker. _I came back..._

She rested her forehead against the palm of her hand, blinking back the tears, but to no avail.

Hot tears, one by one, were slowly rolling down her cheeks.

* * *

Jack stood on the other side of Elizabeth's cabin door, staring absently into the distance. 

She had not noticed him immediately, so he had managed to noiselessly sneak out of the cabin, before she had looked around.

She was back. Whatever that meant. Good.

Well, good for her. For he did not care. He did not want to see her, or talk to her.

He pulled himself away from the door, and walking as quickly as he could, headed for the rum cellar.


	20. Chapter 20

A/N: _**Thank you so much for all the amazing reviews, and I also would like to thank all the non-registered reviewers to whom I'm unable to send review replies: thank you so much for your beautiful reviews!**_

Questions time:) 1) _SPARRABETH!!!!_ (I love you for your last sentence btw lol): If nothing intervenes, I update this story once a week:) 2) _Melissa_: I have no idea how long this story's going to be. But right now I don't see its ending on the horizon, so my guess is that it is going to be... long:)

Disclaimer: I don't own Jack, Elizabeth, etc.

**Chapter 20**

"Jack!" Gibbs called cheerfully walking up the stairs, but to his bafflement Jack not only ignored him, but almost knocked him over on his hurried way down the stairs. "Jack?" Repeated Gibbs more to himself than to his Captain who was already gone, and a moment later Gibbs heard the rum cellar door open, and close so loudly that the entire ship seemed to shake along with it.

Gibbs rubbed his forehead worriedly, then sighed, shrugged his shoulders, and continued on his way up the stairs deciding that it was probably not the best moment for a conversation.

* * *

Elizabeth sat motionlessly on the bed resting her head on her bent knees. Her eyes were closed, and she could feel the tears welling up behind her tightly shut eyelids. But she was determined not to cry. She should not cry. Crying would do no good. 

Why should she have come back right now? Why right now, when she had had a chance to fix everything, when she could have made a deal with that... whoever that man was, and maybe she could have saved both Jack, and Will's father, while now she was back here where she did not want to be anymore, because she no longer belonged to this reality, to this time, to this life..

...without him. Without him, without him, without him!...

She pressed her open palm to her mouth in order not to scream. She wanted to scream, she wanted to scream so loud that the noise, and effort would kill her, and she would not feel that anymore. Feel that... feeling... anymore.

Slowly, she opened her eyes, and the tears flowed down her cheeks like two hot waterfalls, but they did not feel like her tears; these tears felt as if they had nothing to do with her.

Nothing had anything to do with her... anymore.

She looked around, and the longer she looked, the more she was beginning to acknowledge that her time travel was over, and that even though she was back, in fact...

...she was gone.

_He is dead._

She stared absently into the distance, she stared at the empty wall, and she felt her heart clenching, and breaking, and falling apart, breaking into pieces, and she could feel it breaking, she could _hear_ it, the tantalizingly slow cracking noise, and her heartbeat that was nigh inaudible Her heartbeat... What heartbeat?

She had no heart. _He was gone._ It was gone, it was... broken, and for the first time it occurred to her that it was not a phrase, that a heart could really break, for her heart was broken. Broken, or twisted, or both... And it hurt. It hurt so much that she could not breathe, and yet she breathed, and her every breath caused her physical pain, as if she had to draw her every breath from the bottom of her heart, as if every breath caused her shattered heart to break more, and she wanted to stop breathing, to stop hurting, to stop feeling the pain, that unbearable pain that was tearing her apart.

She hugged herself, and sobbed despite her efforts not to cry. She cried, not able to stop the tears, frantically wiping them away from her face with her sleeve, and then she noticed that she was not wearing the light blue dress anymore, but her former clothes, the clothes that she was wearing on their way to the World's End.

She bit her lip, and covered her face with her hands to muffle her sobs which became hysterical, and she wanted to stop crying, she kept struggling to stop crying, but to no avail.

And she never knew, she never knew, nobody had ever told her, and it was not like that in the books that she had been reading. It was not like that in the stories, and she had never known, nobody had ever told her, that love was not always happy, and beautiful, that it not always brightened every day of your life, and made you feel cheerful, and gleeful, but sometimes...

She grimaced, and fell on her side onto the bed, burying her face into the pillow, and screaming into it, as loud as she could, the sound coming out muffled, even though in her head it was not muffled at all.

...but sometimes it hurt. And she never knew that love could hurt like that, that it could hurt so literally, cause so physical, so tangible pain, and she clenched her fists, and punched the mattress praying that she would disappear, she just wanted to disappear, to stop feeling _that_, she just wanted to stop feeling...

"_Lizzie?"_

She sobbed, shaking, choking on the tears, pressing her face into the tear-soaked pillow with all her might, and she wanted to drown in those tears, she wanted to suffocate only to make that pain go away, only to make it go away.

With great effort, after several minutes she pulled herself to the sitting position trying to calm down, suddenly terrified that somebody might come in, and see her like that, and what would she say, then? How could she explain that she was crying like that.

She winced, and rubbed her eyes telling herself that she did not care. Did it even matter? Did anything matter? He was gone. He was gone!!... And he was gone because of her.

She nervously brushed her ruffled hair behind her ears, and feverishly smoothed down her clothes, bursting into tears again.

_He is dead. He is gone. He is not here. You won't see him. He doesn't exist. He is dead. You killed him, and he is dead._

She shuddered, the words repeating themselves over, and over in her head. She slid herself closer to the edge of the bed, and lowered her bare feet onto the floor, brushing the tears away with the palm of her hand.

Quickly, she jumped out of the bed, stood up, and... screamed.

She slumped down onto the bed moaning, the pain in her feet radiating through her entire body. She looked at the floor, and at the pieces of broken black glass scattered there, some of them stuck in her feet, the drops of blood dripping on the floor, and she hid her face in her hands, and cried again, cried from pain, and helplessness, and despair, and because he was dead, because he was dead, because he was dead!...

* * *

"Bloody... rum," muttered Jack, trying - with no success - to uncork a rum bottle. He struggled with the bottle for some time, huffing with annoyance, at last losing his patience, and smashing the bottle against the wall. 

"_...because it's a vile drink!"_

"No, it's not!" He shouted, and with a grimace grabbed another bottle, and opened it without much trouble. He lifted it to his lips, and took a long swig waiting for the liquid to blur his mind, if only a little, at least a little, at least for a moment.

Looking at the half-empty bottle in the dim lantern light, his mind drifted away into all kinds of strange directions. Why was he _remembering _things that had never happened? Why they felt the same as those which had happened? Why he could not sense any difference between them?

Perhaps it was the time spent in the Locker that caused his mind to lose the ability to judge dreams against the reality. In the Locker there was not much difference between what was real, and what was not real, no difference between night, and day, no difference between...

He closed his eyes, and rested his head against the cellar wall.

...no difference between what he had felt toward her before she had... done what she had done, and... after she had done that.

"Bloody wench," he muttered hollowly, opening his eyes, and staring up at the dark ceiling.

_She's woken up. She's alive_, he thought as disinterestedly as he could.

Slowly, he raised the bottle to his mouth again, drinking the rum, drowning his thoughts in it, drowning the thought that he would give half of the rum stored in this cellar for that bloody wench to just kiss him again.

_What?! _He snapped at the chuckling voice in his head, tossed the empty bottle aside, and hid his head in his hands.

No, it was not true, he would not give _all _the rum.

The voice chuckled again.

"Oh, shut it," muttered Jack irritatedly, staggering to his feet.

* * *

Without bothering to knock, as he had not expected to hear any answer, Will pushed the door to Elizabeth's cabin open, and walked inside to check on her, which was something that he was doing every other hour. 

He closed the door behind him, turned around, and...

"Elizabeth!" He almost screamed, astonished by seeing her awake.

Elizabeth looked up abruptly, her face stained with tears, and her eyes red from crying. She stared at Will blankly without uttering a word.

"Elizabeth, what's-," he trailed off, and grimaced, noticing the broken glass, and to his further astonishment recognizing it as the pieces of Tia Dalma's black globe. "How-," he started, but then noticed Elizabeth's feet hanging just a few inches above the black, sharp shards, something dripping from her feet... "Elizabeth!"

"I'm fine," she muttered subconsciously pushing him away, when he had sat on the bed beside her, pulling her into an embrace.

"I'll get hot water, and..." he bent down to look at her feet.

"It's nothing, really..." whispered Elizabeth.

"It must hurt you, you've been crying," he looked at her worriedly, still only half-believing that she was really awake, his mind trying to produce an explanation as to how the black globe had made its way to Elizabeth's cabin, and who had broken it.

"I'm fine," she repeated blankly, hugging herself, and staring at the ground.

He looked at her for a moment hesitantly, unsure what he should do or say. She was clearly still in some kind of shock after the experience. "I will-," he started, getting up, but Elizabeth caught him by his shirt sleeve.

"I tried to save him," she whispered looking at him with her eyes narrowed from crying. He had never seen her looking that utterly exhausted before.

"Save whom?" He sat back down, taking her hands in his. "Your hands are so cold," he said looking at her with a faint, concerned smile.

"Your father," answered Elizabeth quietly, cold shivers running up her spine at his touch.

"_Lizzie?"_

She stiffened. _It's so cold without him, so cold..._

"I am cold..." She whispered, more to herself than to Will.

"My father?" Will looked at her questioningly. "You've met him?" He asked with a small smile.

Elizabeth nodded, withdrawing her hands from his, and reaching for a blanket. The gesture brought Will's mind back to her.

"Your feet," he said, standing up. "Don't move. I'll get hot water, and bandages. You must be hungry? I'll-"

"I'm not hungry," interrupted Elizabeth in a hollow voice. "I ate...," she whispered, the tears welling up in her eyes at an instant, and she could almost feel Jack's fingers on her lips when he was putting small pieces of fruit in her mouth.

Will rubbed his forehead. "Alright, so I'll just bring you something warm to drink. I'll be right back," he said with a reassuring smile, holding her distant gaze for a moment, and quickly leaving the cabin when she nodded, forcing a faint smile.

When the door closed, Elizabeth closed her eyes, the tears rolling down her cheeks, hot like _his_ lips... cold like the clinging sound of metal shackles...

* * *

"She woke up?" Tia Dalma knitted her eyebrows, rising to her feet from a chair. 

"Yes, somebody broke the globe," said Will, pouring hot water into a bowl.

"Nobody knew that the globe had to be broken to bring her back," said Tia Dalma after a long pause.

"Except for me, you, and Barbossa," said Will, grabbing several fresh towels, placing them under his arm, and taking the bowl with his both hands.

Tia Dalma did not answer anything, struck by an idea. _But how did he know that it had to be broken?..._

Will took some dressings from a drawer, and quickly left the galley.

* * *

Elizabeth sat at the edge of the bed staring at her hands. Slowly, she lifted one of her legs, and propped it on her knee. There were only three or four pieces of black glass in her foot, and she took them out one by one, unhurriedly. 

It hurt... or rather it should hurt, but she was not sure whether it hurt... she felt numb, from head to toe, numb everywhere, and she could hardly tell the difference between pain, and the lack of it.

She did not feel anything... and yet she hurt everywhere... only the pain felt so... natural, that she was almost unable to feel it...

Elizabeth shuddered, shaken by a sudden sob. She covered her face with her hands, and cried, the tears stinging her eyes, her face, rolling down her cheeks, burning her skin, burning her mind like black fire... Everything was black... Everything was gone...

He was gone.

She was gone.

"Elizabeth?"

She looked up, and met Will's terrified gaze. He quickly closed the door behind him, and knelt on the floor in front of her, putting the bowl with hot water down, next to him. He reached for her foot, but Elizabeth snatched her foot away from his grasp.

"I'm sorry, I'll be more careful," he smiled apologetically.

She stared at him with strange expression in her eyes. "No, Will, please," she drew her feet further away from him. "I'll do it myself," she said in a faltering voice reaching for the cloth that he held in his hand.

"But-" Will looked at her hesitantly.

"Please," she cut him off, looking at him intently.

He held her gaze for a longer while, uncertain as to what he should do. She seemed very tired, and perhaps that was the reason for that look in her eyes. She did look as if she had come back from a very long journey. She looked as if she had come back... from a different world, she seemed changed, more changed than Jack seemed after being trapped in the Locker.

"How do you feel, Elizabeth?" Asked Will in a low voice, and instead of giving her the towel that she had asked for, he took her hand in his. She cringed. "Are you still cold? I'll-"

"I'm fine," she whispered through her gritted teeth. She was freezing. Inside out.

"_Lizzie?"_

Elizabeth took a deep breath in order not to burst out crying. How could a voice, not even a real voice cause so much pain?

So much sorrow... so much sweet, painful sorrow...

"_Ye're me treasure... me silver an' gold..."_

"Please," whispered Elizabet brokenly almost tearing the cloth, and the dressings out of Will's hands. "I can do this myself. Please, I'm just... so tired. I can't talk."

"We don't have to talk now..." Will looked at her worriedly.

"I know," Elizabeth glanced at him, but quickly averted her eyes. "But..."

"Alright," said Will with a sigh, forcing a smile. "You can do it yourself if you want, and then you should rest. We'll talk when you'll feel better. I'll check on you in a couple of hours, would that be alright?" He stroked her hair, and Elizabeth's eyes widened for a moment.

_Don't do this, don't do this, you'll efface his touch from my hair!..._

"Yes," said Elizabeth quickly, frightened by the ridiculous thought that had just crossed her mind.

Will wrinkled his forehead. "You have a fever," he whispered, extending his hand to place it on her forehead.

"No!" exclaimed Elizabeth, almost pushing his hand away. "I'm sorry," she apologized immediately, startled by the half-astonished, half-hurt look on Will's face. "I'm just tired, very tired, I'm sorry."

"Elizabeth, don't," he smiled faintly. "I understand," he rose to his feet, and turned around. "I'll be back," he said with a reassuring smile.

"Did we make it back?" Asked Elizabeth in a low, strained voice, when Will opened the door to leave.

He turned around with a sigh. "No. We still have to figure out how to go back."

Elizabeth nodded mutely, and looked away.

"The map is not clear, nobody knows how to read it," a small, ironic smile flitted across Will's face. "Not even Captain Jack Sparrow," he added with a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

Elizabeth froze.

"What... did you say?" She asked in a hollow voice, slowly shifting her eyes to him.

Will sighed, suddenly regretting that he had mentioned Jack at all. Should he tell her? Well, she would find out sooner or later. "He's alive," he said grimly. "He woke up, somehow," he added with a shrug, glancing at Elizabeth searchingly.

She stared at him wide-eyed, her face expressionless, except for the sudden flashes of light that flickered in her eyes, but he was not sure whether it was really the case, or perhaps his imagination was just playing tricks on him. He had an impression that her eyes sparkled, and glittered, and it was only after another moment that he realized that it was the tears in her eyes that glimmered in the dimly lit cabin. But before he decided to ask why was she crying, she blinked the tears away, and averted her eyes.

"I see," she whispered rather blankly, busying herself with the cloth, and hot water.

Will watched her for a moment, before reassuring her once again that he would be back soon, and then leaving the cabin, quietly closing the door behind him.

As soon as he left, the cloth fell out of Elizabeth's trembling hand. She could hardly form a coherent thought in her mind, everything was blurred, and hazy, and swirling around, the colors hurtling toward her, and for a moment she thought that she would lose her balance, even though she was sitting on the bed. Will's words reverberating in her head, impossible to be made sense of, impossibly beautiful, true... not true... how could they possibly be...?...

Alive. He is...

She put her hands to her head, her lips curling up into a wild smile, and she covered her mouth to stifle a sob, but she was not crying... she was laughing... laughing hysterically, the tears rolling down her face, and she laughed, her laughter strange, and raspy, but she could not stop. She ran her hands over her face, wiping off the tears, brushing her hair behind her ears in nervous, shaky gestures. She touched her lips, almost reverently, almost feeling the print of his lips under her fingertips. Her heart was ablaze, and she was not cold anymore, the fire coursing through her veins, her blood rushing to her head, and nearly taking away all her senses, dragging her into unconsciousness. But she was shaking too much, she was too petrified with delight to faint, to breathe, to die... Everything was a blur, and a contradiction, and everything made sense, only she could not make sense out of anything anymore.

Crying madly, like she had never cried in her life, she grinned against her hand pressed to her mouth to keep herself from screaming. She had never felt that overpoweringly happy in her life, if it even was a feeling of happiness... No, not happiness, something else, something different, something calmer, more subtle, and yet more wild, and impossible to name. She was soaring, she was drowning in relief, in the transcendental feeling of bliss emanating from those few words, those few words that had just resurrected her soul...

He was alive. He was alive!

She blinked, her smile freezing on her lips, not disappearing, but freezing momentarily, for a moment...

He was alive.

She had made that deal, after all.

Right when she had said 'yes', when she had agreed everything had vanished, and she had flown through the darkness, and back to here, to her present, to her future, and she had thought that the strange, eerie man had not heard her consent, that the cause was lost.

But apparently it was not. If Jack was alive... The deal had been made. And perhaps Will's father was alive as well.

Twenty years, then.

Twenty years in the Maelstrom of Time, whatever that was... She had not had the time, or mind to ask what it was...

But it did not matter. What mattered was that he was alive. She smiled to herself, and closed her eyes.

When would those twenty years begin? Doubtlessly soon. She had no time.

Opening her eyes, she looked around the cabin, trying to collect her thoughts. She looked at her feet. Her feet. Clumsily, she took the pieces of glass out of her feet. Luckily, none of them went too deep. She did not bother cleaning her feet, she just put them into the water for a moment, took them out, dried them impatiently, and without applying any dressings slid her feet into her boots, and rose from the bed.

"Oh God," she hissed, almost falling back down because of the unpleasant, sore sensation. Clearly, she had underestimated the injury. There was sharp, stinging pain emanating from her feet, and filling every fiber of her body for a brief moment, before she regained the control over her senses, and the pain began to ebb. Limping slightly, Elizabeth walked to the door, grabbing the doorknob with her shaking hand, a silly smile pasted on her lips, a smile that looked almost frightening surrounded by all those traces of tears. She must have looked terrible with her hair ruffled, her face stained with tears, her eyes glittering wildly. But it was all of no importance. He was alive, and she wanted, she needed, she must see him. She must feel his arms around her, get lost in the protective entrapment of his embrace. She must feel his lips crashing against hers, claiming every piece of her soul, every train of thought, every shard of her disintegrated mind. She must feel-

She stopped dead in her tracks, her hand suddenly letting go of the doorknob as if it was made of hot steal that burned her hand. She stared at the door in cold astonishment. She had forgotten. She had totally forgotten...

It was not Jack who loved her that she was going to find. It was not the man who would look at her with loving wonder... It was not the man whose eyes would burn like two black stars every time he looked at her... It was not the man who would drape his arm around her drawing her toward him possessively... It was not the man who would kiss her feverishly whispering confessions into her ear...

The man that she was about to meet, was the man whom she had killed, the man whom she had betrayed, the man who must be rightfully hating her right now.

She staggered backwards a few steps, helplessly staring at the door, not sure what she should do anymore. He probably had no desire to see her. Nor to talk to her. What was she going to tell him? She was afraid that she might not survive the cold, condescending look in his eyes after having seen those eyes of his boring into hers with tenderness, and passion just few moments ago...

Few years ago...

Few realities ago...

She bit her lower lip, and closed her eyes gritting her teeth. She was afraid of what she might do if she saw him. She was afraid that she might just fell to her knees, and beg his forgiveness, and he would just stand motionlessly glaring at her, or even worse than that... looking at her indifferently, with no emotion in his eyes...

She covered her face with her hands, tears streaming down her face again; tears like cold pearls against the skin of her palms.

* * *

Jack stood in front of Elizabeth's cabin door staring at it with a frown on his face, his hands curling up into fists, and hanging almost limply on his sides. 

What did he come here for?

_What the hell did ye come here for ye bloody idiot?!_

_To kill her._

_Nice try._

_What? I didn't try to do it yet._

_Nice try at inventin' a pretext._

_Oh, shut it._

_Oh, yes, definitely shut the door 'fore ye start devourin' her-_

_Shut it I said!!_

_Maybe she feels guilty enough not to push ye away-_

_What kind of reasonin' is that?!_

_Pirate._

_Ye're repeatin' yerself, mate._

_No, it's ye who want to repeat that kiss._

_Shut yerself or I'll shut ye!_

_Ye're not goin' to just grant 'er yer forgiveness, are ye?_

_I'm not bloody goin' to grant 'er bloody anythin'!_

_Except for a kiss, or two..._

_Are ye deaf? I hate her!_

_...or three..._

_Bloody, good-for-nothin' wench. Wench!_

_...or four..._

_She doesn't even deserve t' be killed by me!_

_...or six..._

_Five._

_What?_

_Ye missed five._

_Did I?_

_Yes, ye did._

_Alright. Five. So... ye were sayin'?..._

_She doesn't even deserve t' be kissed by me!_

_Killed._

_What?!_

_Killed. Ye said kissed._

_No, I didn't!_

_Yes, ye did._

_Bloody liar!_

In a futile attempt to punch the voice, Jack's raised his fist, and tossed it blindly in front of him, hitting the door very loudly, and very hard. He drew back his fist, hissing from pain under his breath. He huffed in annoyance rubbing his hand that felt almost numb from the blow.

And then suddenly he stilled his movements as he heard a quiet, hesitant 'come in' coming from the other side of the door.

Come in.

Come in?!

_Bloody hell, ye knocked!!!_

_No. Ye did._

Jack narrowed his eyes, and stared at the door hatefully.

Reluctantly, he closed his hand around the knob, and taking a deep breath hastily pushed the door open.


	21. Chapter 21

A/N: _**Thank you so much for all the beautiful reviews!**_

Disclaimer: Jack, Elizabeth, etc. belong to Disney.

**Chapter 21**

Elizabeth quickly wiped the tears away from her face with the back of her hand. Whoever it was, Will, Gibbs, or even Tia Dalma, should not see her crying like that.

She said her 'come in' almost in a whisper, and was surprised when the door opened suddenly, before she even had the time to sit down on the bed again.

And she was not sure what happened first... Whether her breath caught first... or her heart stopped beating first... or her eyes widened first... Most probably, all of that happened at once when she saw him in the doorway.

He froze right after entering the cabin with such a look on his face as if he had not expected to see her there, and for a brief moment Elizabeth thought that he had simply mistaken the cabins, and that he would just turn on his heels, and leave without uttering a word.

But he did not leave. He just slammed the door shut behind him, his eyes never leaving hers, and she felt relief that he had not left, even though she had cringed when he had closed the door so loudly.

She wanted to run, she wanted to run to him, throw her hands around his neck, kiss every inch of his face, and tell him that she was sorry, that she was wrong, that she was lost... without him, that she could not breathe... without him.

But she did not run, she did not even move, trying to decipher the look in his eyes, trying to believe that it was not indifference that caused him to be so strangely, so frighteningly silent.

He stared at her, all the well thought-out, poisonous words evaporating from his mind the moment he had locked his eyes with hers, the moment he had looked at her (was she crying?) tear-stained ('course she was) face (but why?).

He knew that he should say something. That he should say something quickly, and that the words should be sharp, and hurtful, only he could not think of anything hurtful to say... All he could think of was that she was standing almost within his reach, that she had been crying, and... that she was _beautiful_.

The expression in her eyes confused him. He had expected to see an impudent Governor's daughter, or an insolent pirate, or, somewhere at the bottom of his heart perhaps even an apologetic bonnie lass, but he had certainly not expected to see a distraught, devastated, beautiful (_stop repeatin' the bloody word!..._) woman with her beatif-, with her face stained with tears, with her beauti-, with her eyes glimmering with sadness, with her beaut-, with her hair in disarray, and she looked as if she had not slept in ages, even though he knew that she had surely slept for a long time. And yet she looked so exhausted, so pale as if she had just returned from the most terrible journey, and he had to dig his nails into the palms of his hands in order to keep himself from running to her, sweeping her into his arms, and kissing her until she would forget her name, until she would forget every single letter of her name.

Slowly, Elizabeth lifted her hands, and hugged herself, suddenly feeling very cold, very cold under his distant gaze while she could still feel her skin burning from his touch, and she ached for that touch, and once again she wanted to disregard the circumstances, and run to him, and beg him to touch her, beg him to remember those memories that he certainly did not have, those memories which were the only memories that she cared about right now...

The silence was almost unbearable, and after taking a deep breath she gathered all her courage, and whispered:

"Are you going to say something, Jack?"

_Jack, Jack, Jack, Jack. _His name echoed in her head accompanied by his imaginary voice whispering her name into her ear, his hands gliding over her skin, and for a moment she could not breathe, engulfed by all those feelings which were his and hers in that other world, but now, here, they were gone, and she was not sure whether she even had the right to remember them.

Jack raised his eyebrows, and the look in his eyes made her heart flutter. A flash of smouldering anger, a glimpse of irritation both frightened her, and gave her hope.

At least it was not indifference. At least he cared enough to hate her.

"Me?" He took a step forward, and Elizabeth held her breath. "An' what would ye expect me to say, luv?" She shivered at his last word, but he did not seem to notice. Or did he?... "Welcome aboard, perhaps?"

He took one more step towards her, and stopped abruptly suddenly realizing that _for some reason _he was walking toward her, which was not good, not good at all, because the closer he was to her... the closer she was to him. _Bugger._

"I know that you have every right to be upset with me," she blurted out in a shaky voice looking at him intensely.

He smiled, a half-coldly sarcastic, half-his usual, roguish smile. "Upset?" He tilted his head to the side, and took another step into her direction. Elizabeth's hands fell limply to her sides. "An' why would I be _upset_ with ye?"

Elizabeth's eyes widened, and to her utter dismay mixed with absolute delight, he swaggered a few more steps forward, and stopped right in front of her. All she had to do was lift her hand, outstretch it a little, and she could touch him, touch his face, his lips...

She looked at him, still remembering his eyes filled with love, without shadows of suspicion and disappointment hovering over his smiles when he looked at her. She felt as if she knew something about him, something that she should not know, because he had no idea that she knew it... How much would she give for him to remember those dreams which had happened... if they had happened... Maybe they were only dreams, after all?... And even if they were not, it was all that was left now: dreams. The dreams of the past that could have been the future if she had not chained them to that mast... leaving them to die.

Jack looked at Elizabeth with a small smile plastered onto his lips, but his eyes were darkly serious, shining in the dimly lit cabin, boring into hers calmly, piercingly, as if he wanted to see her thoughts, to see through her soul, through her.

She wanted to apologize. Maybe she was underestimating the power of a simple "I'm sorry"? Maybe it would do? But somehow, despite those thoughts she said something else:

"You must hate me now."

It was not a question. Neither was it a statement. It sounded more like... advice, or rather...

"Shall I understand it as a request to tell ye that I don't?" He looked at her with his eyes slightly narrowed, and she read it as a sign of anger, while he merely tried to focus, and keep his eyes from wandering all over her face, because then they might accidentally encounter those sweet, luscious lips of hers... He blinked struck by a sudden realization that if he would just lean a little closer, a little more forward, a little more down...

"No," she whispered almost inaudibly, and he was surprised both by the meekness in her voice, and by her eyes which swept over his lips before refocusing on his eyes.

"No," he echoed subconsciously, and as subconsciously lifted his hand, and drew it across her face almost absently. Elizabeth gasped in surprise at the gesture. "Ye're cold," he stated matter-of-factly, slowly taking his hand away, and Elizabeth struggled not to catch his hand, and press it back to her face.

"A little," she muttered breathlessly staring at him with wide eyes. She had not believed that he might have ever wanted to touch her after what she had done.

He looked at her for a moment thoughtfully, before turning around rather abruptly. "Strange, isn't it? The land here is hot and humid, and the sea cold," he said in an almost conversational tone of voice, looking around the cabin with mild interest. "What's that for?" He asked, furrowing his brows at the steaming bowl of water sitting on the floor, and a small pile of towels and dressings on the bed.

Elizabeth stared at him in amazement, not really hearing his last words, too engrossed by contemplating the fact that after all that had happened he had come to her, he was here with her, he was talking to her, he... was.

"Jack, I'm sorry," she breathed on an impulse running to him, and grabbing his arm.

He swirled around, snatching his arm out of her hands. "Are ye now?" He asked sharply with a twitch of his mouth, hid eyes suddenly ablaze, as if she had just slapped him, and not apologized.

"I am," she whispered, holding back tears.

"Ah," he snorted under his breath, and Elizabeth backed away. "But sorry for what, if ye could be more specific, darlin'?" He whispered, gazing at her intensely, and walking toward her, slowly backed her against the wall.

"For everything," she said thoughtlessly, too baffled by his behaviour to think too much before giving him an answer, but soon she regretted it, when she saw a strange shadow washing over his face.

"Thought as much," he said tonelessly, the expression in his eyes making it clear that he most definitely had not thought as much at all.

Elizabeth wanted to amend her careless reply, but was cut off but Jack's hands on her shoulders when he unexpectedly shoved her against the wall, not too hard, and yet hard enough to astonish her.

"I saved the crew," she said shakily, almost unconsciously finding it ridiculously necessary to defend herself. She looked into his eyes trying to imagine what train of thought was provoking his actions, what was he thinking, right now, right in this moment, about her.

"Oh, I know," he said in a husky voice, sneering faintly, his hands sliding from her shoulders upwards, crossing the border of her clothed, and bare skin, slowly encircling her neck.

How could he tell her that he could forgive her if she had killed him to save herself? How could he tell her that he could forgive her if she had killed him to save Gibbs, or... Cotton's parrot for that bloody matter. But what he could not forgive her for was that she had killed him to save _him_. She had made a choice, and the choice she had made was unforgivable, because... it was the _choice _that she _had_ made.

She shivered, but contrary to what he had vaguely expected, there was no fear in her eyes, only a silent question, and something indescribable, or rather... something that he did not dare to describe.

"Perhaps you should really do it," whispered Elizabeth staring into his eyes greedily. She missed him looking at her, even if now he was looking at her with such dark light in his eyes. She craved his touch, even if now he only meant to threaten her, and yet there was something in the way his fingers were closing around her neck that seemed to have little to do with an attempt to inflict pain.

A trace of a smile flitted across his face. "Do what?" He asked, quirking his eyebrows.

"What you're doing already," she answered quietly, trying to calm her breathing which was becoming dangerously uneven.

Lazily stroking her neck with his thumbs, he leaned toward her. "Why are ye tellin' me to do somethin' that I'm already doin', then?" He murmured, his lips barely moving, and inches away from hers.

Elizabeth drew a shaky breath. "Strangling me seems like a poor revenge idea," she whispered, afraid to move, afraid that he might remove his hands from her neck if she moved.

He smiled mildly amused, the smile not reaching his eyes which continued studying her face with grim intensity. "Indeed," he said after a moment of consideration, letting go of her neck, and sliding his outstretched fingers into her hair, tangling them in the strands of her hair, and slowly, so slowly that she almost did not notice it, he pushed her head forward pressing her lips to his.

Her eyes widened for a fraction of a second in surprise, before fluttering shut when he began kissing her ardently, with impatient passion, with increasing arrogance, not really believing that she was making no attempt to stop him.

He had dreamt of kissing her for so long, almost obsessively wondering what it would be like to feel her lips on his _again_, and the moment he had opened the door he had known that he was going to kiss her, even if he had known that it was a fatal idea, even if he definitely had not wanted to kiss her, even if she had not wanted... which, to his delighted astonishment, did not seem to be the case.

Hesitantly at first, and then more confidently, she started kissing him back, not really knowing why he was kissing her, not really caring to know why as long as he did, as long as she could make-believe that the anger in his kiss was passion, that the lust was love...

But right when she lifted her hands to wrap them around his neck, she suddenly felt something cold on the side of her neck, and he broke the kiss, slowly drawing back, and opening his eyes to meet her confused, glittering gaze, her cheeks flushed, her lips trembling.

He moved the pistol an inch upwards, the tip of its cold barrel pressed to Elizabeth's neck right under her ear.

* * *

"They are in the Locker..." Said the man in a grey coat, slightly bowing his head.

"A wonder they made it there," replied Chronos glancing at his herald with mild interest, apparently engrossed by studying a clock that he was holding in his hands.

"Yes," agreed the messenger with a flash of well-concealed irritation in his eyes. "That is why I came to ask-"

"Broken," Chronos cut him off, shaking the clock, a look of apparent annoyance on his face.

The herald's mouth twitched. "I cannot reach them there, and that is why I came to inquire if-"

"But you said that the _flaw_ disrupting the flow of time returned to his present, and that no substantial damage had been done," Chronos furrowed his brows, and snapped the clock open.

The man's colourless eyes narrowed. "Nothing that could not be fixed, however-"

"Ah!" Chronos smiled triumphantly, removing a battery from the clock.

The herald exhaled sharply. "However, I have used the opportunity to make the person responsible for the damage that _might _have been done agree to spend twenty years in the Maelstrom of Time,"  
Chronos looked up abruptly, "in exchange for two minor changes in the past."

The god of time did not seem too pleased. "Two minor-"

"One, actually," the herald sneered faintly. "Because one of the two people whose lives were to be spared turned out to be alive without my interference. Although, she does not know that."

"She?" Chronos arched an eyebrow.

"It's a woman, your Majesty," answered the herald blankly.

"I suppose that _she _is a woman," snapped Chronos, shooting the man an annoyed look. "And she agreed to spend twenty years in the Maelstrom of Time?" He asked, narrowing his eyes suspiciously.

The herald steadily returned his gaze. "Yes," he said after a pause in a firm voice.

Chronos snorted. "Knowing what it means?" He questioned doubtfully, scrutinizing the battery in his hand.

"Yes," the herald lied smoothly.

"Very well," said the Chronos. "But it will be only ten years," he said, looking at the man in grey pointedly. The herald clenched his jaw. "If that one person that you've mentioned is alive, it would not be fair."

"Of course," answered the messenger, forcing a polite smile.

"But you have to wait until, and _if_ they make it back from the Locker. I have no intention of making exceptions. The Locker is not your territory," Chronos rolled the battery between his palms, looked at it intently, and put it back into the clock.

"Of course," said the herald tonelessly, a hardly noticeable flash of anger passing across his face.

Chronos looked at the clock, and smiled, dismissing the herald with a wave of his hand.

When the door closed behind the messenger, Chronos looked up at the door, squinting.

* * *

"Sad awakenin', isn't it?" Whispered Jack almost inaudibly, a hint of sarcasm in his voice not quite as clear as he had intended. "But at least ye're not cold anymore, apparently," he sneered very faintly, his eyes shining down on her like two black, winter-sky stars.

Elizabeth stared at him wordlessly, dazed from the kiss, bewildered by his actions, even though she should have expected something like that, shouldn't she?

"Wretch." She whispered half-heartedly through her gritted teeth.

Jack grinned. "Merely a victim, luv. The worst enemy of all," he added after a pause, the fingers of one of his hands still tangled in her hair, his other hand pressing the pistol to her neck like on that day when they had met for the first time, and the memory of that day suddenly flashed across her mind.

"A victim?" She managed to find her voice, even though she still could not really catch her breath, not with his lips so close, and his smouldering eyes piercing through her. "Hardly," she said as sardonically as she could with his fingers absently toying with the strands of her hair.

"I came back," he said half-seriously with either a mocking, or childishly triumphant smile, she could not quite guess which one it was this time.

"I came back too," she retorted sternly, and his lips stretched into a smile, but then he cocked the pistol.

Elizabeth blinked, startled.

"Frightened, at last?" He questioned, slowly sliding the barrel across her skin, placing it under her chin, and propping her chin with it.

She snorted. He raised his eyebrows.

"Do you really think that I'm going to believe that you're going to strangle me, or shoot me, or whatever else method of killing you're going to come up with yet?" Asked Elizabeth, surprised more with herself than with him at the moment. Surprised, that despite the circumstances she still had a nerve to get angry with him.

"An' what makes ye think that I won't?" He wrinkled his forehead almost thoughtfully, and a hint of sincere interest in his voice made her shiver, and for the first time from the beginning of their conversation it crossed her mind that perhaps he himself did not really know whether he would, or would not do that.

"I don't think you would find kissing a dead person entertaining," she blurted out the first thing that came to her mind, clenching her fists.

He grinned, and leaned forward, placing the cold pistol's barrel across her lips. "World's full of _livin'_ lasses, I assure ye."

Her lack of immediate response caused his fake grin to widen.

"Most of them not a murderous, treacherous type," he slightly narrowed his eyes. "An' they kiss better too," he added in a low voice, looking at her intensely, taking the pistol off her lips, and putting it away.

"And yet here you are kissing _me_," she said coolly, overcoming the twinge of bitterness caused by his words faster than she could have thought she would. Perhaps because she could see in his eyes that he was provoking her deliberately, and he would probably be very disappointed if he knew how bad at lying he sometimes was.

"Not that there's much choice at the moment," he answered without moving a muscle in his face.

Elizabeth's eyes flashed irately, and she swiftly lifted her hand, but he was quicker, and caught it before she succeeded in slapping him.

Even though slapping him was only a pretext to touch him.

"That's not very nice, dearie," he pinned her hand to the wall, and did the same with her other hand, when she tried to slap him again.

"You want me to be nice to you when you insult me?" She almost shouted, her voice quivering against her will when he inched his face to hers.

"I'm not insultin' ye," he countered with a hint of cynical amusement in his voice. "I'm merely sayin' that I'm not interested in ye any more than I'd have been in any other woman that I'd be stuck with in the middle of the ocean of the dead."

"Blackguard!" She growled, leaping forward, trying to snatch herself away from his grasp, and unexpectedly succeeding, which caused her to fall hard against his chest, and before she collected herself enough to move away from him, he closed his arms around her,a and pulled her into a bruising kiss, his lips crashing against hers with the force of a storm.

She punched his chest, pushing him away, and trying to break the kiss, but he secured one of his hands in her hair on the back of her head, making sure that she could not draw back.

He kissed her as hard as he could hoping that at some point it would feel as if he reached some border, as if it was _enough_, as if he did not need to kiss her anymore. But the more, the longer he kissed her the _less enough _it felt, the less satisfied he felt, and it was as if he was falling into an abyss, and he waited to land on the ground, or crash against it, but somehow neither of these was happening, and he was just flying across the space, across the light, faster, and faster, her lips sweeter every time they moved against his, and he tried to think of the taste of her lips, he tried to define it, to name it, there certainly was a name for that taste, it certainly reminded him of other tastes, there certainly was a taste that he could compare to the taste of her lips when he nibbled on her lower lip sucking it into his mouth. There had to be something similar to the taste of her mouth when she parted her lips, his mind half-consciously registering that she was not struggling anymore, but instead unclenched her fists, slid her open palms over his shoulders, and wrapped her arms around his neck.

And suddenly it dawned on him, the realization that frightened him to the core, and he broke the kiss shocked, and dismayed by the _terrible_ thought that flashed through his mind. The thought that there was only one word that could define that taste, one word that had nothing to do with exotic fruits and wild flowers, with wonders and dangers of nature, one word that had absolutely nothing to do with anything that he had known before, one word that he could not compare to anything, one word that was irreplaceable. One word:

Lizzie.

He let go of her so abruptly that she almost lost her balance, and fell to the floor without his arms around her, without anything to hold on to. Laboriously, she opened her eyes, only to see him storming out of the cabin, the door slamming shut behind him.

Elizabeth slumped onto the bed, out of breath, and of any coherent thought, her eyes so hazy that she could hardly make out her surroundings. She put her head in her hands staring into the dark air before her, not really knowing what happened, not knowing neither why he had come, nor why he had left, not knowing which words he had meant, and which he had said only to hurt her, which gestures were planned out, and which were stronger than him, which of them he had done against her, and which... against himself.

She quickly closed her eyes, but not quickly enough, and few tears escaped from under her eyelids and rolled down her cheeks.

It did not escape her notice that he had not mentioned her name. He had not said her name, not even once. He had not called her _Lizzie_, and for some reason this rather unimportant detail stung her most.

She brushed the tears away from her face with the back of her hand with a grimace, suddenly feeling the forgotten, sharp pain in her feet.

...But whatever it was that he felt toward her it was certainly not indifference.

Slowly bending down, she removed her boots, and put her feet into the lukewarm water with a sigh. She stared at her feet, the tears drying out on her face, and suddenly a faint, smug smile appeared on her face, and she clapped her feet together causing a small splash.

...And as far as she could tell, it was not hatred either.

* * *

Jack leaned against the wall in the corridor, tilting his head backwards, covering his face with his hands, trying to catch his breath, and trying to understand why the bloody hell had he kissed her!?

He had started well (alright: _quite _well), then there was that little slip of the... well, tongue, actually (he chuckled, but quickly turned his silly smirk into a grim frown), then he was heading in the right direction again (he had even managed to say something that had seemed to hurt her), but then-

He felt a sudden urge to go back to her, but before the idea would materialize, he pushed himself away from the wall, and headed for the helm in a hurry. Steering a ship should help him. Steering the _Pearl _should calm him down. Steering his ship was all that he wanted, and needed.

...Maybe the taste of her lips on his would last long enough to give him several minutes of peace, before he would have to go and... kiss her again...

...which he had no bloody intention of doing!!!!...


	22. Chapter 22

A/N: _**Thank you so much for all the amazing reviews:)**_

Disclaimer: I don't own Jack, Elizabeth, etc.

**Chapter 22**

When an hour later Will came to check on Elizabeth, he found her sitting on the bed, her feet sank in cold water, her hair even more ruffled than before, her eyes shining as she was staring absently into the distance, a small, enigmatic, silly smile plastered onto her lips.

What was even more puzzling, she had not noticed him when he entered the cabin, and only after he had called her name at least three times, and then sat down on the bed beside her, she cringed, snapped back into the reality, and looked at him, apparently astonished by his presence.

"Elizabeth, are you alright?" He asked in a hesitant tone of voice, looking at her worriedly. There was something unsettling in her appearance, although he could not quite place it.

"Yes," she answered immediately, nervously tucking strands of her hair behind her ear.

To his further bewilderment Will noticed that her face was slightly flushed. "You have a fever," he stated (seemingly) the obvious. "You shouldn't keep your feet in cold water for so long," he added, bending down, and helping her take her feet out of the water, and lift them onto the bed.

"I know, I'm sorry," she muttered, grabbing a towel, and drying her feet, even thought she could hardly feel if her feet were cold or not. She had been busy replaying her latest, weird encounter with Jack, trying to analyze his thoughts, and motivations; trying to relive...

Strangely, she could still feel the weight of his lips on hers... She could feel his lips dragging hers into the blissful oblivion, his arms around her, his hands in her hair, impatient, and almost inconsiderate when he was pulling her as close to him as possible, and the word _devour _suddenly acquired its meaning. She was consumed by him, by his emotions, his emotions that she could not grasp; consumed by his touch, angry possessiveness which made her feel – how oddly - safe. She wanted him to kiss her again, unwillingly realizing that she did not really care whether he was going to kiss her out of fury, and frustration, or out of love... She just wanted him to kiss her, to kiss her like before... like in the past... in their past, in his past... in their past together when nothing had stood in between them, no guilt, no betrayal, no... other people.

"Elizabeth?" Will's voice shook her out of her thoughts.

"Will," her eyes suddenly widened when she looked at him as if she had seen him for the very first time in her life.

Will smiled, slightly amused. "Yes, that's me." But then his smile faltered, different reasons as to why she looked so surprised flooding into his mind, as several hurtful memories pierced through his heart:

The kiss.

Her despair in the Locker when they had found Jack. Dead Jack.

His name on her lips when she was put into that strange sleep by Tia Dalma.

The little boy from the past who had said that he had seen Jack and her... _snuggling_.

"How do you feel?" He asked in a strained voice, pushing the thoughts away. She was tired. He would ask her later...

Elizabeth averted her eyes. "Strange," she whispered, staring at the door.

_Where did he go? Did he go to his cabin? Or did he go to take the helm? Yes, the helm, most likely..._

"I know where you were, Elizabeth," said Will after a pause watching her, and still trying to pin-point the reason why he felt that there was something different about her. She darted her eyes to him."Tia Dalma told me that she had sent you to the past so you could... say good-bye to him," he continued under his breath, looking at Elizabeth's unreadable face intently. "Only that now he is not dead," he added with a very faint trace of annoyance in his voice.

"I think your father is not dead as well," said Elizabeth in a low, thoughtful voice, nibbling on her lower lip. Will's brows furrowed in confusion. "He didn't stay on the _Black Pearl_. We jumped off the ship during the mutiny. All the three of us," Elizabeth trailed off with a sigh, the unwanted memory of the morning on the island suddenly washing over her like a wave of hot mist.

"_Ye're me treasure..."_

No, not unwanted..._  
_

"Elizabeth..."

She looked up at Will who stared at her with a look of uncertain elation on his face.

"I don't know, Will," she shook her head, and continued, before he had a chance to say anything. "All I know is that he didn't stay on the ship, but I don't know what happened later. I guess the only way to find out is to see if he is still on board the _Flying Dutchman_."

Elizabeth looked away. She was not going to tell anybody about the deal. It was nobody's burden to bear. Nobody else's but hers.

Subconsciously, she licked her lips already missing the taste of his lips... Because the deal she had made was going to take her away. It was only a matter of time, and she just hoped that the Maelstrom of Time was nothing to be afraid off. She snorted inwardly. Nothing to be afraid off... She was going to go somewhere, and she did not even have the faintest idea where that place was, and what it was like, and why that man wanted her to go there in the first place.

It hurt to think that she was going to be gone... And the only trace of relief that she could feel was connected with the fact that if she was to be taken away, she would avoid telling Will what she felt... or rather... what she did not feel... ever? Anymore? She could not tell dazed by exhaustion, dazed by _his _enraged kisses, by her impatience to be near him again. If she could, she would just get up, and run, run to him caring not for what he might say, not caring what anybody might say. She felt like a traitor towards herself, she did not trust herself, she did not trust herself enough to be sure that if Jack was to walk into the cabin at that moment she would not throw herself on him. Why, and what for she was not quite sure. It was beyond her, similarly to that overpowering feeling of helplessness overcoming her in his presence, it was new, and frightening, and she felt lost among all those feverish emotions that he had ignited in her. How was she ever going to forget? Because she should forget... Twenty years was a long time... She should forget that they had ever met.

But how could she forget something that was now the only memory that she cared for?

* * *

"I've to say that ye ain't lookin' even half as cheerful as ye ought to after gettin' back from the dead," observed Barbossa walking over to Jack who stood at the helm staring frowningly into the horizon, his hands gripping the spokes so hard, as if he wanted to crush them. "Not t' mention that ye failed to thank us for savin' ye."

Jack ignored him, keeping his eyes fixed on the dark air before him. Barbossa watched him interestedly.

"Did ye talk with... the wench yet?"

"I told ye not to call-," started Jack sharply.

"Ah," grinned Barbossa. "Infallible method of attractin' yer attention, I see."

Jack shot him an annoyed look. "What d' ye want?"

Barbossa's facial expression turned serious at an instant. "I think we should discuss the course of action, as it were," he said in a low voice, narrowing his eyes. "To avoid some misunderstandings which may ensue due to the multiple motivations of some of yer acquaintances present on board."

"This includes ye, I'm guessin'," Jack glanced at him with a sour half-smile.

Barbossa shook his head in mock exasperation. "Our conflicts are in the past, Jack. I think ye should worry 'bout those with whom ye're goin' to have conflicts in the future," he said with a smile.

Jack squinted, his eyes calmly wandering around the murky waters. "Maybe I'm not goin' t' have any conflicts in the future," he remarked blankly.

"Aye," snorted Barbossa. "No doubt he'll just give 'er up for ye."

Jack darted his eyes to him. "Ye must've spent too much time bein' a rotten corpse, Hector, 'cause ye're makin' no sense," said Jack irritatedly, looking at him darkly. "Not that ye were ever makin' any sense to begin with,", he added in a low voice, "but st-"

"I also have memories, Jack," interrupted him Barbossa with a sweetish smile, and after holding his gaze for a moment, turned around, and walked away, leaving Jack with a very confused facial expression.

"No sense at all," muttered Jack, shifting his eyes back to the horizon, the frown on his face deepening.

* * *

"Would you tell me what's happened... in the past," said Will hesitantly after a longer moment of silence, wondering what was running through Elizabeth's head, and why she looked so... different, why she seemed so different to him.

Elizabeth looked at him, nibbling on her bottom lip. "Not much, nothing," she said quietly with a shrug.

"Not much or nothing?" Asked Will cautiously, with a small smile, taking Elizabeth's hand in his, and delicately stroking the back of her hand with his thumb.

She stared at his hand with an odd expression on her face. "I happened to be there a few days before the mutiny... and I tried to warn Jack, but he did not quite believe me..." she trailed off with a sigh. "But during the mutiny I told your father to jump off the ship with us... with me and Jack, and he did, and then we swam to that island, and... and then I woke up," concluded Elizabeth inhaling, and exhaling deeply, the memories almost taking her breath away.

She squeezed Will's hand in order to keep herself from jumping to her feet, and running to Jack.

Was it what love was like? No pride, no dignity. With dismay, she thought that she could as well beg him to kiss her if that was necessary. But maybe it was not love? Love was calm, and gentle, love was safe, and stable, and it made you feel happy, not mad, not half-conscious from desire, not yearning for a mere touch, not breathless from the very image of somebody's eyes burning your mind, your soul, and your heart inside out.

Will smiled, and squeezed her hand in response.

Love was like Will.

She faked a genuine smile.

Or at least it should be...

Will leaned toward her, and she froze, but the knock on the door save her from making absurd excuses.

Elizabeth dragged her legs up to her chest, and rested her chin on her knees, shifting her eyes to the window. Will rose to his feet with a sigh, and walked to the door.

"What do you want?"

Elizabeth cringed, and turned her head toward the door abruptly.

"I want to talk to... Miss Swann," said Jack, and the hint of disgust in his voice when he uttered her name made Elizabeth's heart clench.

But soon it unclenched, and began beating so fast that she thought it would surely jump out of her chest. She stared toward the door, Will's back blocking the view, and she could only see a thin strip of Jack's red bandanna.

"She's tired," snapped Will, looking at Jack intensely.

Jack snorted. "Forgive me if I don't care."

"Well, I do. What do you want?" Will furrowed his brows, losing patience.

"I want to talk to my murderess, so if ye please move," said Jack slowly, through his gritted teeth.

Will crossed his arms over his chest. "About what?"

"Will," Elizabeth slid off the bed, and disregarding the cuts in her feet tiptoed bare-footed to him. "It's alright, I'll talk to him," she said in a soft, slightly faltering voice, glancing at Jack over Will's shoulder, the blood in her veins running cold at the coldness in Jack's eyes.

Will looked at her hesitantly. "I don't think this is a good idea," he said, shooting Jack a distrustful look.

"It's alright. I'm sure he won't kill me," said Elizabeth with a small smile, glancing at Jack, who merely raised his eyebrows, a trace of a sneer flickering across his lips. Will sighed, seemingly unconvinced. "Will, please," Elizabeth smiled, and reached for his hand, squeezing it reassuringly. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Jack watching her with stony face, except for his eyes which shone in the dark corridor, almost lightening it.

After a few more reassuring words from Elizabeth, Will agreed. Jack walked past him into the cabin, and he walked out with a frown on his face. "If-" he started, but Elizabeth cut him off with a wave of her hand.

"I'll be alright," she said firmly, and with a small smile, slowly closed the door, holding Will's gaze until the door clicked shut.

She stood for a moment leaning against the closed door, and staring at it, almost afraid to turn around, wondering whether Jack stood at the far end of the cabin, or rather somewhere near her.

Why did he come? Did he make his mind as to what he wanted to do with her?

Slowly, she turned around, half-hoping that she would find herself in his arms, forced to kiss him...

"Where were ye?" Asked Jack flatly, looking at her from the other side of the room, his eyes slightly narrowed.

Elizabeth swallowed, pushing her ridiculous, feverish thoughts away.

"Where...? I don't understand," she said quietly, shivering involuntarily at the sound of his voice, annoyed, yet almost blank.

Perhaps they were not that ridiculous, considering what had happened last time he was here...

"When ye were sleeping. Tia Dalma said that ye were _somewhere_. Where were ye?" He leaned against the wall, standing by the window, and looking at her coolly, an undecipherable emotion shimmering in his eyes.

"Why don't you ask her?" Asked Elizabeth, slightly thrusting her chin forward. Even though somewhere in the back of her mind she had a constant urge to apologize to him, even though she was wordlessly apologizing to him all the time, his attitude irritated her, it irritated her that he was playing some role, acting out, either suppressing or exaggerating his feelings at the moment.

He smiled strangely. "I did."

"So?" Elizabeth arched an eyebrow, slowly crossing her arms over her chest. Something in his eyes, or maybe perhaps the simple fact that he had come back after storming out of her cabin made her daring, even though there was a small flame of fear in her heart, fear that the emotion in his eyes might be nothing more than anger, nothing more than bitter fury laced with faint reminiscences of desire.

"An' now I'm askin' ye," he said a bit nonchalantly, looking at her intently.

Elizabeth returned his gaze as levelly as she could, but somehow she could not clear her mind of memories... Tides of images were flooding her imagination, his eyes, his eternally beautiful, dark eyes haunted her, love in his eyes haunted her, and a part of her could not understand that she could not see that love in his eyes right now... in the same eyes...

But in a different world.

"Why did you run away?" She asked on an impulse, leaning against the closed door, once again keeping herself from running to him. That absurd urge to seek comfort in his arms, the comfort which she could not find, that she did not deserve to find... It hurt her more than anything else, the sense of loss, the loss of the feeling that she had begun to consider as an internal, as a _crucial _part of her.

Jack squinted, a trace of artificial confusion flickering across his face. "When?" He asked, only a moment after that careless inquiry realizing that the question had given something away...

Elizabeth smiled faintly. "I know why you had run away _then_." His mouth twitched. "I was asking about now. Why did you run away now? And why did you come back..." Her voice faltered involuntarily when he pushed himself away from the wall, and took a few, seemingly reluctant steps toward her.

"An' why did ye kill me?" He asked so casually, that the words did not immediately register in Elizabeth's mind. She paled, taken aback by the question. "I thought we were playin' in askin' each other questions?" He amended innocently, answering the expression of dismay on her face.

"I thought that you said that you admire a person who is willing to do whatever is necessary..." she recited in one breath, trailing off with a blush, the sentence suddenly sounding ridiculous... or perhaps it was only ridiculous because she had said it.

Yet he smiled, although his smile was more like a twist of the lips, a trace venom flitting across his features, and she had an impression that he was hiding behind that smile, that he was trying to make a false impression... on her? on himself? She could not tell... But it was a _false_ impression, that much she could guess.

"So ye killed me to gain my admiration, aye?" He stopped in front of her, a hint of humour in his voice; his eyes as dark and impenetrable as ever.

_Call me Lizzie_, thought Elizabeth abstractedly, staring at him with wide eyes, the tears swirling around somewhere in the back of her imagination.

"I told you I'm sorry, Jack. What else can I say? I can't turn back time," she said under her breath, almost choking on the last sentence.

He looked at her in silence for a while, his hands hanging limply on his sides.

The longer she gazed into his eyes, the less certain she felt that she could really guess what he was thinking. There was darkness in his gaze, but that darkness was so vivid, sparkling with emotions, with questions that he would not ask, answers that he would not give...

"One moment I want to toss ye 'round the room, slam ye against the wall, an' strangle ye with me own hands," he whispered looking at her unblinkingly.

Elizabeth flinched slightly, subconsciously pressing herself closer to the wall, his breath on her face sending shivers up her spine, his eyes boring into hers, emotions twisting and turning, flaring in his eyes, flashing through his face, flickering across his lips...

He continued, his voice barely audible, his lips hardly moving, his breath warm, intoxicating. "Next moment I want to fall down on my knees, an' kiss yer feet."

She thought she had misheard him. She must have...

"Jack..."

He brought his hand to her face, and drew it lightly across her cheek, sending thunders of fire through her, and the only reason why she did not faint was that she still tried to comprehend what he had just said, tried to believe that he had really said it.

"Jack-"

"Doesn't mean I'll do either," he cut her off, his voice suddenly colder than winter rain. He took his hand off her face, and slowly curled up his fingers into a fist.

"Will you forgive me?" Asked Elizabeth, almost shivering from dismay, terrified that he might walk away once again, walk away, and out of the cabin, and it would be the end of it.

"No," he answered almost too simply, his brows furrowed half-thoughtfully, half-angrily, the mute, furious glimpse returning to his eyes.

"Why?" Elizabeth stared at him wide-eyed, subconsciously leaning toward him.

He sneered. "Why?"

"Yes. Why? I apologized, I..." her lips trembled, and he blinked nervously.

"Doesn't change anythin', Elizabeth," he said plainly, and she cringed at the name.

_Call me Lizzie!..._

"What do you want me to do? Beg you?" She grimaced, gritting her teeth to stop the tears.

"That'd be amusing, but... no," he said, forcing an amused smile, but failing completely.

His hand touched her face once again, and this time she caught his hand before he took it away. She put her hand over his, and pressed his open palm to her cheek, her heartbeat quickening, and she noticed - to her surprise, to her delight - that his breathing became uneven, and although he looked at her almost blankly, she could seethe light emanating from his eyes, she could feel it.

Suddenly, taking him by surprise, she quickly drew his hand away from her face, and slapped herself with his hand.

He snatched his hand from her grasp, and took an abrupt step backwards, glaring at her. "What the hell did ye do that for?!" He shouted huskily, looking more aghast that she had expected.

"Because you wouldn't do it yourself," she pursed her lips. "Maybe now you can forgive me," she said with a frown.

Jack blinked. "Ye compare a slap to a murder?!"

Elizabeth's widened in astonishment. "So now it's not enough?! Very well," she took a step forward, and grabbed his hand, attempting to repeat her former trick.

"Stop it!" Jack stiffened his hand, and for a moment they struggled grotesquely. "Elizabeth, stop it!"

"Stop calling me Elizabeth!" She shouted all of a sudden, letting go of his hand, and throwing it at him, almost causing him to lost his balance.

Jack glanced at his hand worriedly, pouting slightly. "An' what should I call ye?" He asked incredulously, a faint suspicion forming in his mind, but he quickly discarded it. "Miss Swann?" He snapped, then squinted with a huff. "Mrs. Turner?" He asked with a half-hearted sneer.

Elizabeth narrowed her eyes, clenched her fists, and then, to his absolute astonishment... slapped him.

"What was that for now?!" He snapped in bewilderment, rubbing his cheek.

Elizabeth bit her lip, and groaned frustratedly. "That was... that was for you being a stupid, stubborn, insufferable, despicable-"

His lips were upon hers before she even noticed his hands on her shoulders slamming her against the wall, pressing his body to his, fingers tangled in her hair, lips kissing, nibbling, biting, she hissed, and gasped locking her arms around his neck, and he pulled her away from the wall, closing her in his arms, hands roaming blindly over her body, lips feverishly retaining the control over the kiss, taking her breath away, refusing to let her breath, think, move... Enthralled, she clung to his arms, to his touch, to his lips...

She used all her will power to break through her hazy thoughts, and break the kiss, pushing him away. "Will you forgive me?" She breathed, looking at him through half-lidded eyes.

"No," he breathed in response shooting her a dark look, before roughly pulling her back towards him, and kissing her again.

Despite some nebulous notions of propriety, she gave in, and kissed him back more earnestly than she should considering his irritating, and somewhat insulting stubbornness.

Half-consciously, she noticed that the more passionately he kissed her, the gentler became his embrace, an unlikely contradiction that ignited in her a strange flame of blazing hope.

"Jack..." she drew back, gasping for air. "Say you'll forgive me."

"No," he pushed her lips onto his, his fingers getting lost in her hair, tangled locks wrapping around his fingers, getting caught in the sharp edges of his rings, and sometimes it hurt when he accidentally pulled single strands of her hair, but she did not care, too lost, too devoted to not losing that feeling of his lips drinking the apology from her lips, and refusing her the absolution of his words, offering only the absolution of his kisses instead.

Only?...

"Why not?" She whispered weakly, breaking the kiss, reveling in the sense of security in his arms. His arms... She could feel slight difference in the way his shoulders were shaped... She was curious whether he had many more scars on his back than he had had in the past... She wondered if his hands would feel rougher against her skin... if he would be as reverent about her like he was in the past... would he smile... would he just treat her like a trophy... would he love her...

Could he love her?

He reluctantly released her lips for a moment. "'Cause ye'd do it again," he whispered noncommittally, looking at her with black mist-clouded eyes.

Elizabeth's eyes widened slowly. "No," she mouthed. "No," she repeated in an ardent whisper, shaking her head. "Jack, I-"

He frowned, let go of her, and walked away a few steps, leaving her with the sweetness of his kisses, and the bitter taste of his disbelief in her mouth. "What is it?" He asked opening the door, apparently answering the knock that she had not even heard in all the chaotic noise made by thoughts and feelings swirling around in her head.

Gibbs apologized for the interruption. "I thought ye might want t' see this," he said in a grim, serious tone of voice, glancing toward the stairs leading onto the main deck.


	23. Chapter 23

A/N: _**Thank you so much for all the wonderful reviews!**_

Spoiler: I'm actually a bit sad about that, because I really loved that scene in AWE... However, in this story Governor Swann will not be floating into the eternity just yet:)

Disclaimer: I don't own PotC.

**Chapter 23**

It was dark, very dark, unsettlingly dark outside, and when they got on the main deck, their eyes needed a moment to adjust to darkness.

Jack and Elizabeth followed Gibbs, and soon they joined almost the entire crew that was gathered on deck, watching the peculiar sight before them.

Elizabeth slowly walked to the rail, her eyes widening. Jack stopped a few steps behind her, but still close enough to receive a grim look from Will, who made his way toward Elizabeth.

"I know these people...", whispered Elizabeth, her eyes focusing on one of the boats floating among many others, each small boat carrying one person, each person carrying a lantern... "They work for my father!" She smiled. "We made it back!" She exclaimed, glancing at Jack over her shoulder.

Jack knitted his eyebrows, wordlessly shifting his eyes between Elizabeth, and the silent boats that were drifting by the _Black Pearl_. "'Lizbeth...," he said at last, after watching her hair fluttering in the wind for a moment, suppressing the urge to sift his fingers through the golden brown strands. She turned around. "We're not back."

She gave him a questioning look, glancing at the boats. "But-"

"They're dead," said Will, walking up to her, taking the place next to her by the rail, shooting Jack a sharp look.

Elizabeth darted her eyes to him, and then looked back at Jack, as if in search of verification. He smirked inwardly at that.

"Souls of those who died at sea," he said in a low voice, reveling in the sight of Elizabeth's figure against the dark horizon, her tanned face adorned by her hair sparkling with gold in the faint light of the lanterns. How would her hair looked like in the candlelight?... He could still feel her lips on his, soft and sweet, shaped to fit in between his...

Elizabeth turned around, and searched the boats unwillingly seeking familiar faces, afraid whom she might see, praying that her father was alright... wondering where could he possibly be at the moment.

"We'll never get out of here," said Will gloomily.

"There's always a way out, unless there was no way in, which isn't the case," said Jack looking straight ahead with a thoughtful look on his face.

Elizabeth leaned over the railing, trying to concentrate on what she was seeing, even though her mind wandered off toward Jack'svoice, so close, and she thought that if it was not for Will who was standing right next to her, she would turn around, and risk falling into Jack'sarms.

Would he push her away?

What did he feel toward her? What did he think of her? He did not hate her. He could not hate her, and kiss her like he had kissed her, with such blinding intensity. Or at least she thought so... Maybe she just did not know much about hatred. As if she knew much about love...

She blinked, startled by the realization. What did she know of love?

Gazing into the half-dark night, she tried to come up with an answer, _any _answer, but to her confused dismay the only answer that she could find was the image of Jack'seyes gleaming down at her _with love_, his hands roaming up and down her sides _lovingly_, his lips smiling with mischief _and love_, kissing the path between her breasts-

She gasped, and spun around. _Stop it! He doesn't love you!... anymore..._

"Are you alright, Elizabeth?" Will looked at her concernedly, reaching to touch her.

"Yes, yes," she said, looking aghast.

How was it possible that even a shadow of him in her memory could take her breath away in the reality?

"We didn't finish our conversation," cut in Jack in a calm, cool tone, with a trace of discontentment in his voice, and Elizabeth darted her eyes to him suddenly wondering whether this time he was acquiring that sardonic attitude for her sake, or... for Will's alone.

Will narrowed his eyes. "I think you've talked enough."

_Aye, we've talked enough, but we haven't do... other things... enough. _"Unfortunately, ye're not the one to judge that. She didn't murdered ye, did she?"

Elizabeth cringed more at the eerie lightheartedness of his voice than at the actual words. Will stared at Jack blankly, finding no good retort to give.

Jack smiled briefly, his eyes sweeping over Elizabeth, a flash of unidentifiable, intense emotion in his eyes startling her, and sending cold shivers down her spine.

There was something frightening about him now, something that she was not familiar with. She had not noticed it before, except for some brief glimpses of anger or irritation now and then; but it was never that kind of detached, silent fury that she could see now. Perhaps it was the influence of the Locker, perhaps it was just life, another betrayal, another disappointment...

Yet, she was not afraid. She was frightened, but not afraid of him, and even more than not afraid – she trusted him even more than before, as if his anger created a bond between them, as if she was protected by his scorn, because he needed an object to project all those emotions on.

Not to mention... that she could not help feeling a bizarre kind of excitement when he was looking at her in that supposedly threatening way. For some reason all she could think of when he was looking at her like that was crashing herself against him and kissing all his anger away.

_I am mad._

_And daft._

"Miss Swann," called Jack in a shrill voice that cut through the dark air dragging her out of her reverie. "If ye'd be so kind."

Elizabeth gave Will a small smile, suddenly feeling ridiculous, and many pairs of curious eyes following her as she followed Jack below deck were not helping her feel better either. Did he have to make such a display out of it? Calling her in front of everybody, as if ostentatiously-

Her thoughts dispersed like dew drops brushed away by a gust of wind when as soon as she walked down the stairs Jack grabbed her wrist, and dragged her across the corridor to... Captain's Quarters.

She uttered some words of protest, not quite knowing what it was exactly that she was saying. Whatever it was he ignored it completely, not even bothering to glance over his shoulder at her.

"What do you think you're doing?" She exclaimed, finally annoyed by his unresponsiveness. He pulled her into his cabin, and slammed the door shut behind them. "If you think-"

Turning around, he backed her against the wall. "If I think what?" He cut her off in a low, menacing voice. His perspicacious eyes boring into hers, his face inching closer.

Elizabeth stared at him wide-eyed, hitting the wall behind her, searching his face for clues. _What do you exactly think of me?_

She remembered him in the past, in Tortuga. How gentle he was, how insufferably considerate... And she had a strange impression that despite everything that had happened to him, that tendency was still there, in him. That he would rather hurt himself than harm her. But why?... She knew why he would do that in the past... But now, here, it was different. Here, he didn't... he couldn't...

"If you think that you can keep treating me like that, I have to inform you that you are gravely mistaken," she said through her clenched teeth, thrusting up her chin, and trying to withstand his gaze. "You shout at me, then you kiss me, then-" she trailed off, irritatingly breathless at the very idea. "You have no right," she added with less certainty than she would like. "I don't want you to neither toss me around nor kiss my feet," she quoted him purposefully, trying to sound harsh, unaware of her eyes betraying her better than any words.

He grinned with ill-boding exaggeration, tapping his fingers on the side of her face. Elizabeth inhaled sharply. He inched his lips to hers, but did not kiss her, his slightly narrowed eyes studying her face for a longer while.

"What kind of game is that?" He asked all of a sudden with a trace of sincere curiosity in his voice, his fingers toying with her hair, his other hand resting on her hip with reluctant deliberateness. Elizabeth wrinkled her forehead in confusion, the thought about pushing his hands away not even crossing her mind. "Why do ye behave like that?" He continued under his breath. "Why do ye let me... Why do ye look at me like that?"

"Like what?" She asked, baffled; enchanted; lost.

Jack narrowed his eyes even more. "Like..." he twitched his nose, and looked her deeply, almost accusingly in the eyes. _Like ye were in love with me_, he thought. "Like ye were sorry," he said instead with a pretendedly ironical smile ghosting across his lips.

Elizabeth blinked. "I told you I _am _sorry!" She shouted, causing him to knit his eyebrows, and looked at her scrutinizingly. "Why don't you believe me?" She asked irritatedly, trying to ignore one of his hands still threading through her hair, his other hand- "What are you doing?" She exclaimed in a voice that unfortunately sounded less angry that she had intended.

"I thought ye wanted me to forgive ye, Elizabeth," he said flatly, his fingers sliding under her shirt, his rough fingertips lazily smoothing her skin.

"You said you won't-," she gasped, he smiled, "forgive me," she whispered looking into his eyes inching closer to hers, her heartbeat quickening, the cabin slowly beginning to spin, and she pressed her back closer to the wall in order to keep herself from losing her balance, and falling down.

He brushed her hair away from her neck, and kissed her there. "Let's say I changed me mind," he murmured into her ear, moving his hand from her hair to her cheek, and gently turning her head towards him, when he looked up to meet her gaze, her eyes as dark as his own. "El-"

"One more time you call me Elizabeth," she said unsmilingly through her gritted teeth, "and I swear I-"

"Lizzie," he cut her off in a suddenly gentle voice, the word flooding over her like sunlight. "Lizzie...," he repeated, closing his eyes, which snapped open when she kissed him. Briefly. Lightly. On the lips. "Lizzie," he whispered after a pause, after a pause filled only with their silent, blazing gazes fixed on each other. She leaned into him, and kissed him again, lingering slightly before drawing back. He wrinkled his forehead, his eyes closed. "Lizzie," he whispered almost inaudibly, a trace of annoyed desperation in his tone startling her.

Unsmilingly, she pressed her lips to his, and he kissed her back, trying to keep her lips on his, but she broke the kiss. "Say you forgave me," she whispered, biting her lip, her eyes shifting between his mouth, and his eyes.

He opened his eyes, and gave her a small, mischievous smile, his dark eyes glimmering with restrained amusement. "I didn't say I _forgave _ye. But... I _may _forgive ye," he explained slowly in a low voice, gliding his fingertips up and down the side of her face.

"_Persuade me..."_ flashed across Elizabeth's mind, and with little faith that she was not simply imagining things, she thought that it seemed he was trying to restore something from their past, the emotional relationship that she had doomed, the teasing game that she had made possible no more.

She took a sharp intake of breath, half-aware of his hand moving under her shirt, up her side, merely brushing against her bare skin. "Name your terms," she said in a faltering voice, gradually failing to care how she sounded, how she looked, and that at that point she would do virtually _everything _he would tell her to do. And that he probably knew it.

He smiled at the haughtiness of the phrase endearingly undermined by the trembling of her voice. "Aye," he looked at her lips, his hand reaching a swell of soft flesh under her shirt. Slowly, he shifted his gaze to her eyes. She was blushing, her eyes aglow, the expression on her face seemingly unreadable. "Name me terms, luv," he said, narrowing his eyes, breathing in the air she was exhaling in ragged gasps.

"Me?" She blinked, trying to concentrate on what he was saying.

"I'm sure ye can come up with a _persuasive_ offer," he smiled against her neck, leaving a trail of light kisses there.

"A persuasive offer..." echoed Elizabeth just for the sake of keeping a track of the conversation, even though words suddenly were making no sense.

"Aye. What would ye do, Lizzie?" He asked in a whisper, his lips brushing against her neck as he spoke. "What would ye be willin' to do to earn yer forgiveness?"

_Earn?... _Elizabeth closed her eyes, and leaned her head against the wall, on the verge of fainting. "I could... clean your cabin," she whispered breathlessly.

He chuckled. "Nay," he planted a kiss in the crook of her neck. "I keep it quite neat, thank ye very much."

"I could mend your shirts," she said under her breath, subconsciously raising her hands, and placing them on his shoulders.

Jack looked up. "Never knew ye could mend shirts, luv. I shall keep this in mind should I ever need them mended," he said smilingly, brushing his lips against hers. "What else?" He demanded in a low, vehement voice, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, his eyes burning into hers with everything but playfulness.

She slowly opened her eyes. "I could make your bed..."

Jack gave her his lop-sided grin. "Now we're gettin' somewhere."

Elizabeth took a deep breath. "Fluff the pillows," she added shakily, beginning to doubt that he was only teasing her, something that she had initially taken for granted.

"Go on," he breathed, kissing her tenderly.

"Tell you a bedtime story," whispered Elizabeth, her voice muffled by his lips pressed to hers.

Jack chuckled, genuinely amused. "What kind of story?" He asked, nibbling on her bottom lip.

Elizabeth slid her hands over his shoulders, wrapping them around his neck. "A fairy tale," she whispered, looking deeply into his eyes.

Slowly, the smile on his lips faded, and he furrowed his brows, looking at her strangely, and the strange look in his eyes made Elizabeth's heart skip a beat. She had not dared to hope that he might actually remember those couple of days that they had spent together in the past. But now, looking into his eyes, seeing in them that glimpse of confusion, she allowed herself – for the very first time – to believe that he might remember what had happened. Even if he could not probably make any sense out of it.

Jack studied her face wondering whether it was possible for two people to have the same dream, the same hallucination... What was a hallucination exactly? Was it a dream? An alternated reality?

A fairy tale?...

"There will be no fairy tales if we won't get out of this place soon," he said somberly, suddenly remembering that her fairy tale had nothing to do with him. "There are nightmares around, but not many fairy tales," he whispered, putting on a small smile, quickly disposing of his absurd ideas, trying to change the direction of his thoughts.

_...An' yet Mister Prince Charming is strolling somewhere around the ship while the Princess is here in yer arms. That's interesting._

Elizabeth grimaced slightly, but bit her lip to conceal the grimace, and a trace of disappointment flickering across her face. _Of course he doesn't remember... _"Are we in danger here?" She asked hesitantly. "I mean apart from the danger of never getting out of here..." she added, subconsciously stroking the back of his neck with her fingertips.

_...That's very interesting. _He looked at her intently, his ridiculous hallucinatory thoughts continuously wandering somewhere in the back of his mind, and he tried to guess how close his thoughts were to the reality... How would she looked... in his arms... skin on skin... would she be bold and passionate despite her innocence, or would she rather be shy and hesitant despite her temperamental personality...

"The sea is full of ghosts, at the end of the world, Lizzie," he hesitated for a moment before leaning down, and kissing her fully, fiercely on the mouth.

More than once he had considered taking advantage of her. For whatever reason, it seemed that she was desperate for his forgiveness, and he wondered how far she was indeed willing to go to obtain it, and if it was really only forgiveness that she sought... Would she really give herself to him forgetting about her engagement only to be forgiven? Unlikely. So unlikely that it almost frightened him what other reasons would she have. And that look in her eyes... Haunted... But haunted by more than mere hunt for forgiveness. There was more to the way she was kissing him than the wish to apologize.

"We wouldn't like to be caught by some three-head monsters," he said, drawing back, and gasping for air.

She rested her head against his forehead, and he watched her face through half-lidded eyes, surprised by the strange intimacy of the gesture, as if they were lovers, and not enemies. Because they were enemies, weren't they? She had killed him, and he just wanted have his revenge, take advantage of the opportune moment, see what it tasted like, and then...

"_Take me, keep me, don't let me go, don't let me go, Jack."_

He grimaced inwardly. _An' then just tell her to get the hell out of me cabin. _He had imagined the scene a few times, trying to find pleasure and relief in the look of horror and hurt that would appear on her face when he would throw her clothes at her, shooing her off his bedroom.

Unfortunately, every time he had imagined such a scene, he was quickly rewinding it, erasing it angrily, ending up with a scene in which he would wake up to the sight of her in his bed drowsily opening her eyes, and smiling at him sweetly, and him smiling back at her, giving her a morning greeting with his lips trailing kisses all over her creamy body.

_No wonder ye get mutinied upon an' killed all the time, mate, being such a bloody idiot that ye are_, he snapped to himself irritatedly.

"Three-head monsters?" Elizabeth smiled faintly, tired of the reality, eager for a story.

"Aye. Or fire-haired sirens...," he kissed her softly. "Moonlight-winged dragons...," he deepened the kiss, entangling his hand in her hair, and pulling her closer. "Maelstroms of Time..."

Elizabeth's eyes shot open. "What?" She gasped, breaking the kiss.

Jack smirked. "Don't worry, luv. They're just stories. Not much truth to them," he leaned down, but she spoke before he kissed her.

"What is Maelstrom of Time?" She asked in a strangely strained voice, looking at him expectantly.

He tilted his head to the side. "A legend, luv, just a legend," he narrowed his eyes. "Have ye not heard of it?"

"I've heard and seen enough to know that some legends are more than...legends," she answered hollowly, her mind racing at the prospect of knowing what the place where she was condemned to spend twenty years was like.

He flashed her a roguish smile. "An' what legends would ye be talkin' 'bout, luv?"

"Jack, tell me what Maelstrom of Time is," she said with poorly concealed urgency which he had mistaken for her desire to change the topic, and simply postpone settling their agreement concerning the price of his forgiveness.

"It's hell, Lizzie," he said in a low, mildly interested voice, sifting her hair through his fingers. Maelstrom of Time is a living hell." Elizabeth froze, and stared at him wide-eyed. "It's a place where they test how much pain and despair a person can endure without dying. Supposedly, they bring there mortal people who were unwise enough to make a deal with..." he smiled. "Too many stories in this world to care of all of them, Lizzie."

"With whom?" Whispered Elizabeth, paling.

"Ye're not scared of a story, luv, are ye?" He asked, slightly amused by the look of utter dismay on her face. He cupped her cheek with his hand, and ran his thumb along her bottom lip. "Such a fearsome pir-"

"With whom?" Repeated Elizabeth in a hollow voice, nervously clutching the fabric of his coat.

Jack tilted his head to the side, becoming rather puzzled by the intensity of her interest. He studied her face for a moment before finally giving her an answer, the answer which caused her face to drain of all color:

"With Death."


	24. Chapter 24

A/N: _**Thank you so much for all the amazing reviews!**_

...I'm sorry for another 10-day long wait! I just... had to recover... ;) The good news is that now, with only one story in writing, updates should come certainly once, and from time to time maybe even twice a week:)

Disclaimer: Disney owns Jack, Elizabeth, etc.

**Chapter 24**

"Lizzie?" His voice was low, and gentle, if slightly impatient, or rather worried. He drew his hand across her face, and propped her chin forcing her to look at him. "What is it?"

She darted her eyes to him, trying to calm down. "Nothing," she lied, risking a faint smile.

Jack rolled his eyes, then put his hands on her shoulders. "There are plenty of whelps out there to whom ye may deliver such answers," he said looking at her sternly. "Me not bein' one of them," he added unnecessarily, tightening his grasp on her shoulders, subconsciously pulling her closer. "If ye haven't noticed already."

She looked at him strangely for a moment, a pirate and a girl fighting in her eyes, and he wondered what kind of lie she was going to give him, but then she leaned forward and kissed him, her lips pressing softly against his, and instead of demanding further explanation, he locked his arms around her, and kissed her passionately, feverishly.She smiled into the kiss, sliding her hands under his shirt, and over his shoulders. 

Entangling his fingers in her hair, he slipped his other hand under her shirt, gliding it up and down her bare back, murmuring her name.

"Say you don't hate me," she said quietly, breaking the kiss, and trying to hold his gaze when he opened his eyes more annoyed that she had broken the kiss than actually interested in the reason.

"Hate ye?" He half-snorted, but not quite denied, attempting to kiss her again instead.

"Jack," she said seriously, tightening her grip on his distractingly bare shoulders, his skin warm under her palms.

"Ye think I hate ye?" He asked, narrowing his dark eyes at her, and pressing her closer, a part of him still astonished that she was letting him...

"I don't know," she whispered truthfully, trying not to close her eyes. It would be so easy to just let herself be carried away by his touch. But that – that alone – would lead nowhere. And if she was about to suffer for the next twenty years of her life she at least wanted something to hold on to. Hope, forgiveness, love... Anything.

Everything.

He looked at her intently. "Ye don't know?" He echoed with a hint of anger in his voice. Elizabeth blinked, baffled, but before she had a chance to respond she was swirled around, once again trapped between his body, and the body of his ship.

She cautiously lifted her hands to his face and placed her open palms on his cheeks, her heartbeat growing louder and louder in her ears. He looked at her with unmoving face, with a frozen facial expression, his eyes studying her, enveloping her, stealing for her every movement. His grip on her shoulders tightened when she slowly brushed her thumbs across his lips.

"Is this a good price for forgiveness?" she asked in a low, faltering voice, shivering from all the emotions falling over her.

He briefly narrowed his eyes, leaning an inch closer. "What price?" He asked quietly, apparently forgetting to add a note of venom to his tone.

Elizabeth leaned forward as much as his hands on her shoulders would allow her, and pressed her lips to his. He closed his eyes.

"Me," she whispered, watching him, watching every line on his face, his lightly trembling eyelids, the line of his upper lip right above where their lips were touching.

He slowly opened his eyes, and to Elizabeth's disappointment did not kiss her, but pulled away, holding her at arm's length, his lips stretching into a faint sneer.

"So ye really do think that I hate ye, then," he said in a strangely resigned voice, letting go of her.

Elizabeth stared at him incredulously. He snorted under his breath, turned around, walked over to his desk.

She watched him for a moment in stupefaction. "I don't understand," she said quietly with tears welling up in his eyes. All of a sudden she felt tired again, she felt like in the past when she had walked through Tortuga, exhausted and distraught, feeling guilty, broken, and lonely in every possible sense of the word.

But then she had met him, and he had done what he always did – brought spirit, light, and purpose to her life.

She shut her eyes, and took a deep breath. Maybe she should just tell him? Even if he did not remember... Was she allowed to tell him? What would he say? Would he believe her? Would he-

Elizabeth opened her eyes, suddenly meeting his dark eyes boring into hers. He stood in front of her, frowning, and brushing the tears away from her face with the back of his hand.

Seeing her cry had a strange effect at him. For some reason, in his hallucinations she was crying a lot, which was very odd, considering that he had never actually seen her cry apart from those ridiculous hallucinations – and now. He felt as if he knew her better when she was crying... even though he did not like seeing her cry... because...

_Because it annoys me!_

_Because it hurts ye to see her cry, mate._

_You again!_

_It does._

_Oh, shut it._

"I wouldn't do it again," said Elizabeth quietly, looking into his eyes, which seemed exclusively focused on brushing the tears away from her face. She could see his teeth clenching behind his closed mouth. He did not say anything. "I wouldn't," she repeated, hesitating a moment before putting her hands on his chest again. 

He shot her an annoyed look, and opened his mouth to say something, but then apparently changed his mind.

The truth was, he did not know what to say. Take your hands off me? He did not want her to take her hands off him. Go away? He did not want her to go away. Leave me alone? No, God, no. It didn't matter that ye're sorry? But it did.

"Jack..."

His hand trembled, and he drew it away abruptly, irritated. Nobody was saying his name as she did. Nobody had such a voice... or mouth, or eyes, for that matter...

He wished somebody had. He wished there was somebody whom he could compare to her, contrast with her... Just to make her more real, more imaginable, more... explainable.

"Jack...," she cupped his face in her hands. "I wouldn't."

He grabbed her by the wrists as if to tear her hands off his face, but he did not actually do it. He just closed his hands around her wrists, and looked at her, his eyes fuming mixed emotions that she could not quite read, the intensity of his gaze igniting a strange fire within her chest.

"Then I guess I should forgive ye," he said in such a plain voice, that his words did not immediately registered in her mind.

"You do?" She asked, afraid to smile, afraid to move.

"I should," he repeated, his thumbs absently caressing the inside of her wrists.

"You should or you do?" she pressed, uncertain if he was about to start another series of half-serious negotiations, or perhaps this time he really was serious.

"I might," he said, squinting. Elizabeth rolled her eyes. "If ye tell me why did ye get so nervous about that legend," he said, startling her, as she had rather expected a request of a radically different nature.

"I thought you said that I can come up with my own price," she answered smugly, trying to hold his gaze without blinking.

He gave her a small, admiring, assessing smile, which threw a million memories over her.

"_Pirate."_

"That I did," he said in a low voice, and she wondered whether it was the entire cabin that suddenly darkened, or only his eyes...

Elizabeth inhaled sharply, and bit her lip. "Well, I did too," she said quickly, trying to keep her voice from faltering. "I did propose the price."

He did not answer; his eyes fixed on her face, his hands still holding hers.

_Can I ask ye something?_

_No._

_What are ye exactly waiting for?_

_I said 'no'._

_She just said-_

_No._

_Why not?_

_'Cause she doesn't mean it. _

_Doesn't she?_

_And even if she does, it doesn't mean that she means it, 'cause she doesn't know what it means._

_So what?_

_So 'no'!_

"And what would dear William say to that idea?" he asked in a smooth, cool voice, slowly taking her hands off his face.

Elizabeth stiffened. She was not thinking about Will all that much as of late... Truth to be told, she was not thinking about him... at all. Not now. Not here. Not with him. So close.

"Do you want to go and ask him?" She asked evenly, slipping her hands out of his grasp, irritated.

He narrowed his eyes in a dark smile, and caught her hands, pulling her roughly against him. "No. Do you?" he whispered, slanting his mouth across hers, wrapping his arms around her, and pressing her to him tightly, leaving her no room to move, no air to breathe, no words to protest.

He took a few steps backwards, never breaking the kiss, not letting her go, trapping her lips in between his every time she tried to catch her breath.

She tasted of sun and rain – _and_ _of Lizzie –_ of sea and rum – _and of Lizzie –_ of freedom – _of Lizzie_...

"'Lizbeth..." he trailed open-mouthed kisses down her neck.

She clung to him, the storm breaking somewhere within her, hazing her thoughts, dragging her into the unknown, because suddenly she was not sure if she ever knew him. Did she know him at all? After those few days in the past she thought she did, but was that Jack that she had met the same Jack that was now kissing her almost furiously, his hands wandering blindly everywhere he could reach... Was he the same person? Was he the same man that _could _fall in love with her?

He opened his eyes for a moment, just to make sure that it was really her, now, in his arms. 

And suddenly, he wanted to say something. Something that he did not want to say. Something that was completely wrong, and unnecessary, and... not true, definitely not true.

Something that could not not be said.

Unless _she_ would say it.

He found himself waiting for her to say something, to say _this_, irrationally expecting her to say it, breaking the kiss once in while, kissing her face, her neck, her shoulders, relieving her mouth so she could say it...

But she was not saying anything. She only clung to him, with her hands seeking more than forgiveness, her voice stirred with more than guilt, but still... she was not saying anything.

And he would not say it, he would not let her win like that, so she would know everything, so she could take those words with her and live... and leave...

But of course he did not really want to say it anyway. It was not true. It was just...

She touched his face, delicately, timidly, her touch so distinctly light, incomparable to the fierceness of their kisses. He opened his eyes for a moment, to see her face, to see if she was going to... 

He did not know where that abstract idea had come from, the conviction that she might say it, that she _could _say it.

He pulled her closer, and when she brushed her lips over his jawline, kissing his face chaotically, tenderly, he almost opened his mouth to ask her, to _request _her to say it...

Request her. Dear God. _Can you say that you love me? Do you love me? _He had not even thought about asking such questions before. Not once. And especially about asking them of a person who clearly did not...

He caught the rim of her shirt, and pulled it upwards impatiently. She brushed his hands away, but when he opened his eyes he noticed that she had not done it purposefully. She just merely had not noticed it, her hands tugging his coat off his shoulders. He shrugged it off in one movement, and resumed his hold on her, dragging his hands across her face, feeling her skin under his palms, the smoothness, the warmth, the fever.

She glanced at him through half-lidded eyes, and crashed her lips onto his.

_I love you Jack I love you I love you_, the words flashed through her mind, through her, and she shivered, overwhelmed by the feeling of being in his arms _again_, of his lips pressed against hers _again_. But she could not say it. She could not say it, because he would not believe her. Because he did not believe her... Would he laugh at her? Would he get angry? Would he pretend to believe her only to throw the opposite confession at her in the next moment?

She could not give _this_ away... both because it meant too much to be treated as a lie... and maybe because it meant too less to believe that it would change anything...

Most of all, she could not say it, because he would not say it back...

She felt like in Tortuga, on that first day of their meeting in the past. When she had known he could not have possibly loved her, and it hurt, and it had just felt... wrong. Everything had felt wrong, because of that.

And so it did now. Because he did not love her now. Because he never would.

She half-absently broke the kiss, but he propped her chin with his hand, and kissed her again.

It seemed so simple... Kissing her... Why would he ever thought it difficult? It was simple... Holding her... Kissing her...

_I love you-_

His eyes shot open.

_Did she just-?..._

Elizabeth opened her eyes, and looked at him with dazed hesitation.

He blinked. No. She had not said it. _He _had thought it.

They stared at each other, eyes aglitter, souls ablaze, unspoken words swirling around almost visible in absolute silence.

She kept her hands on his shoulders which were falling and rising with every breath he took. She could feel the warmth of his skin through the white fabric. The warmth... but not the body. Hesitatingly, she slid her hands down his chest, and under his shirt.

He caught her hands, and held them away. "If ye're doin' it for forgiveness, better stop," he said in a low, almost threatening voice, looking her deeply in the eyes.

Elizabeth took a deep breath, suddenly feeling both angry and embarrassed. "I thought you said-"

"No. _You_ said," he sharply cut her off, still awkwardly holding her hands, as if he did not know what to do with them. "You want to turn the tables, luv, but this is not going to happen," he added seriously, trying to make himself let her go, trying to let her go, but still gripping her hands, gripping them tighter and tighter; pulling her closer... again.

Elizabeth grimaced in incomprehension."Turn the tables?" she echoed half because she really did not understand what he meant, half because she did not want to risk the end of the conversation.

_Twenty years..._ If he only had an idea what she had done, for him. _I love you, Jack._

"I'm not going to help you finding reasons to hate me," he said snappishly, finally letting go of her hands.

_I love you, 'Lizabeth._

"What are you talking about?" she asked, following him, when he walked away, once again turning toward his desk.

He spun around. "D' ye really think I hate ye as much as to drag ye to my bed in order to forgive ye?" He asked angrily, taking a step toward her.

She took a step back. "No," she whispered, and swallowed. "Probably not _as much_," she said bitterly, not sure what she was actually bitter about, not sure what she was saying... and what he was saying. Was he scolding her for the idea? Was he telling her that he would not forgive her no matter what? Or... was he trying to tell her... something else?...

He snorted, grabbing her by the arms, and pulling her toward him. "Not as much indeed," he whispered with half-hearted irritation, moving his hands closer to her neck, to her bare skin.

"So what do you want from me?" she asked in an involuntarily quivering voice, subconsciously tilting her head to the side, and brushing the side of her face against his hand.

_You. All of you. Everything that is you. You. Only you. Always you. _"Nothing," he answered in a hollow voice, closing a few locks of her hair in his hand, feeling the strangely soft texture, imagining how would her hair feel brushing against his skin, against his chest. How would her lips feel tracing the scars on his back. How would it feel...

She stared at him blankly, her vision becoming blurred. "I see," she managed to whisper, the anger in her voice as hollow as his tone, and she tried to snatch herself away, but he kept his hold on her unchangingly. "Let me go," she whispered, through her clenched her teeth, pushing him away.

He seemed not to have heard her, because he stubbornly held her despite her efforts to break free. Leaning forward, he touched his lips to hers, but before he kissed her she freed one hand, and slapped him awkwardly on the chin. "I thought you said 'nothing'!" she shouted, writhing in his grasp which suddenly tightened.

"This is 'nothing'," he snapped back, pushing her head toward his, but she slapped him again.

"I hate you," she whispered in a faltering voice, the tears flowing down her cheeks.

"You wouldn't cry if you did," he retorted, locking her in his arms, and burying his face in her hair.

She froze. "Why did you say that? Why did you say it was nothing?" she breathed with a grimace, staring into the dark window, cautiously wrapping her arms around him.

"Not a nice thing to hear, is it?" he asked in a low voice, kissing her hair.

"I never said anything like that," said Elizabeth quietly, somehow suspecting what he meant. She could feel his lips twisting into a smile? a smirk? a sneer? against her hair.

"Oh yes, ye did, darlin'," he said almost jokingly, but with a trace of grimness in his voice. "It's after you...," he whispered into her ear, sending cold shivers down her spine. "I'm not sorry..." he kissed her ear.

"I didn't mean that it meant nothing," she whispered, blinking back the tears. "And I am sorry," she added almost inaudibly.

He drew back, and looked at her, tucking her hair behind her ear. "I thought you said you were sorry about _everything_?" He said with a ghost of a smile flickering across his lips, slightly raising his eyebrows. "There seems to be a tad bit of contradiction..."

Elizabeth sighed. "You know exactly what I _am_ sorry about, and what I am _not_ sorry about," she said looking at him intently, a wave of warmth falling over her when he gave her his lop-sided grin that she missed so much.

He pulled her into an embrace, and twirled a lock of her hair around his finger. "Do I?"

"Jack, I'm tired," she said lowly. "Just... forgive me already," she added after a pause, his smile encouraging her to try a slightly braver approach.

He smiled again. _I did. Already. _But before he decided to voice his thoughts something caught his attention. _Up..._ He narrowed his eyes focusing on the strand of her hair that he was twirling around his finger._ And down... _He twirled it again.

"Jack?" Elizabeth looked at him uncertainly.

"Up and down," he muttered, still playing with her hair, keeping the strand above his finger, and then swirling it around again. "Up and down."

Elizabeth wrinkled her forehead in confusion. "Jack, what are you-" she stopped noticing that his face suddenly brightened, and he let go of her, and almost ran to his desk, shoving some papers and maps on the floor, and spreading only one piece of darkened paper in the middle of his desk. Elizabeth came up to him, watching his fingers tracing some lines on the map.

"Up... and down," he brushed his fingertips over the words on the map, and smiled. "Up _is _down," he moved a part of the map. Elizabeth leaned down, and watched the movements of his hands interestedly. "Sun... down," Jack's eyes widened, and he looked up, shooting her a glittering smile. "Sun _down_."

Elizabeth blinked, but before she had a chance to ask for an explanation he caught her hand, and ran out of the cabin, pulling her with him.

* * *

With both his real, and his wooden eye Ragetti looked in bewilderment at the people running from one side of the ship to the other.

Pintel stood next to him, equally confused, but then suddenly he smiled broadly, elbowing Ragetti. "He's rockin' the ship!" he exclaimed incredulously.

Ragetti darted his eyes to him, and then looked back at the entire crew crossing the deck of the _Pearl_ back and forth tirelessly. "Who?" he asked, squinting. Pintel rolled his eyes.

* * *

The _Black Pearl _once again leaned to the side, but this time the shipdid not straighten up. Mixed screams of fear and excitement ran through the crew, and everybody tightened their grip on whatever they had within reach to hold on to.

Will looked toward Elizabeth who tightly clutched the railing with both of her hands. He was afraid she might fall, and he tried to think of the way to move closer to her to make sure that she would not-

But then the water came crashing down, or rather _up _on him, and on everybody else, and he could not see anything anymore...

... apart from a blurred image of Elizabeth's hand being suddenly clasped into that disgraceful, ringed, _pirate _hand.

* * *

Still coughing, and almost choking on the water, Elizabeth lifted her gaze to see a beautiful sunrise brightening the horizon.

"We're back," whispered Will, his words almost immediately interrupted by the noise of weapons being drawn.

Elizabeth gasped. Jack and Barbossa pointed their pistols at each other simultaneously.

"Alright-" started Barbossa, but before he could say anything more, Marty cut him off:

"Man overboard!"

Jack and Barbossa stared at each other, neither willing to lower his pistol first. Elizabeth huffed in annoyance, and ran to the starboard looking out at the sea.

"Come on, throw the-" shouted Will, joining her by the rail, but then his breath caught, and his eyes widened.

Elizabeth took a few steps backwards from the rail, half-elated, half-devastated.

So the deal was made successfully. The conditions were fulfilled. 

Will shot her a feverishly happy look, and she managed to give him a smile that he did not seem to notice was broken.

Elizabeth stood motionlessly, wordlessly watching several crew members pulling Bill Turner onto the deck of the _Black Pearl_.


	25. Chapter 25

A/N: _**Thank you so much for all the wonderful reviews!**_

**_...and Happy Easter! _:)**

Disclaimer: Disney owns Jack, Elizabeth, etc.

**Chapter 25**

"What now?" muttered Barbossa, staring at Bootstrap incredulously.

Will knelt beside his father, helping him to sit up.

Jack wrinkled his forehead, and very slowly shifted his gaze from father and son to Elizabeth, who stood on the side, very pale, watching the scene with a forced, ghost-like smile on her face. Feeling Jack's gaze on her, she turned her head to him, and managed to smile at him more brightly, but he did not smile back, studying her from the distance with a frown on his face.

"_It's just... a small change, a life saved, it will do no harm to anybody!"_

Jack blinked, and his frown deepened. Something was wrong. With him. With her. With those hallucinations that kept throwing at him distorted words and images.

Not to mention that there was definitely something wrong with a living dead man floating joyously around in the Caribbean waters.

Bill Turner coughed, and smiled at Will weakly.

Elizabeth bit her lip, and averted her eyes, thinking that perhaps it would be better for her to just go out of sight. Will was too preoccupied with taking care of his father, and everybody else too engrossed by the realization that they had made it back from the world's end after all, to even notice her absence. Quickly, she turned around, and headed below deck, hoping that Jack would not follow her, although out of the corner of her eye she could see that he was still watching her.

As soon as she reached the stairs, she ran to her cabin, opened the door, walked in, and shut- and _tried _to shut the door, but unfortunately it just would not close. She pushed it harder, but then suddenly she noticed a black boot stuck between the door and its frame. Disbelievingly, she looked up, and met Jack's dark gaze. She blinked in astonishment at the subconscious realization that he must have not only merely followed her, but actually _run _after her to reach her cabin at the exact same moment when she had.

Without a trace of politeness, Jack pushed Elizabeth's hand off the door, and shoved her aside walking into her cabin after her, and slamming the door shut behind him. Elizabeth cringed, and took a few steps backwards colliding with the bed, and hardly keeping her balance.

He did not move, did not come closer, only looked at her sternly, threateningly, almost.

She quickly considered her options trying to guess his motives, trying to read his face, a task which she could never quite complete, apart from those rare (well, not so rare, as of late...) moments when she had her eyes closed, and he was kissing her, whispering her name-

She huffed inwardly with irritation at the direction which her thoughts were taking.

"Any particular reason for stalking me?" asked Elizabeth sharply, mostly because she wanted to block her thoughts which had the tendency of becoming more vivid when she kept silent, and also because she wanted him out of her cabin so she could cry freely, and prepare herself for what was to come, what was certainly to come soon.

Jack was alive. Will's father was alive. There was nothing else, but the Maelstrom of Time to complete the deal that she had made.

"Stalking you?" Jack raised his eyebrows ostentatiously. "And I'd think that it was rather you who was, who _is _stalking me," he said with a hint of humor in his voice. He thought that it would not hurt to play another game, but he was also determined to get from her all the answers to all his questions no matter how _distractive _the situation might get. "Coming to Tortuga...," he took a step towards her. Elizabeth snorted, and pursed her lips. "Coming to the ends of the world...," he tilted his head to the side.

Elizabeth looked away. _Coming to you in the past... Going with you on the Black Pearl... Giving you my heart... giving myself to you... giving up my life for you... _

"I just came along with the rest of the crew," she said coolly, shifting her eyes back to him, suddenly realizing that if she was leaving, if she was going to be heartbroken, she should at least make sure that he wasn't. _Why should he?_, she thought numbly, but a part of her kept telling her that her disappearance would have _some _effect on him, and therefore she decided to do her best to lessen that effect.

"Did ye now?" he half-smiled taking a final step which brought him face to face with her, too close for her comfort, and yet not close enough to comfort her.

"Yes," she said firmly, watching him intently, memorizing every line of his face, every flicker of light in his eyes, fighting the urge to touch him... _to memorize him better._

"Seems a bit contradictory to the entire 'I'm so sorry, Jack' endeavor, luv," he said mockingly, even though his eyes remained serious, and he held her gaze, looking at her intensely.

"Maybe I just said that so you would forgive, because I don't like feeling guilty," she blurted out, not knowing what to say, wanting to say something that would evoke in him negative feelings toward her, but finding no right words, her mind spinning, preoccupied with fruitless attempts to imagine what the Maelstrom of Time was like.

He looked at her with his eyes slightly narrowed, and for a moment, with a faint, bitter sense of triumph she thought that she had managed to say something that was going to make him just leave her alone, but he quickly disillusioned her.

"What the hell is going on, Elizabeth," he asked in a harsh voice, grabbing her by the forearms, and pulling her toward him.

"I told you not to call me that," she said stubbornly in a naive attempt to evade his question.

"I could call ye much worse," he retorted irritatedly, wondering if she really believed she might not answer a question if he wanted to have it answered.

She stared up at him wide-eyed, and he had to suppress a smile at her shocked facial expression.

"For example?" she asked challengingly, glaring at him.

He leaned down and buried his face into her hair. "For example...," he brushed her hair away from her neck. "I could call ye...," he pressed his lips to her skin, and she closed her eyes without thinking. "Mrs. Turner," he whispered securing her back with his hand to make sure that she would not snatch herself away from his embrace, annoyed.

Elizabeth's eyes shot open, the name sending a flash of guilt through her. "But I'm not-" she muttered making, to Jack's surprise, no attempt to walk away from him. "That's hardly an insult," she added in a sharper voice.

Shouldn't she now be with Will? Making sure that _he _would not be heartbroken when she would be gone?, she thought half-consciously, feeling tears welling up in her eyes. She did own Will an explanation. Even if only a vague one, even if only in the form of an excuse.

"I didn't mean it as one," said Jack in a low voice, nuzzling her neck. For some reason mentioning of Will did not annoy him at all. In fact, with Elizabeth in his arms, he could talk about the boy endlessly. He even started to feel sorry for him. Poor lad, really.

"We fell apart...," whispered Elizabeth thoughtfully, and Jack looked up at her. "After-," she swallowed, "after the Kraken had taken down the _Pearl_ we did not even talk... much... at all...," she sighed, looking pensively into the distance, her hands sliding up Jack's arms, and resting on his shoulders.

He cautiously pulled her closer. "And why was that?" he asked, his soft tone matching hers. He drew his hand across her face, brushing his fingertips over her lips. She hesitated, slowly shifting her eyes to his face. "Why was that, Lizzie," he repeated, whispering her name with his lips touching hers.

She gasped, and pressed her lips harder against his. "I don't know," she said quietly.

Jack sighed with ostentation. "That's hardly an answer worth dying for, luv" he said, sliding his hand into her soppy hair.

"_I didn't mean it as one,"_ she thought, but asked instead: "And what would be the answer worth dying for?"

He smiled briefly, faintly, kissing her lips with unhurried tenderness. "You tell me, Lizzie," he whispered, tightening his embrace. "What is worth dying for?"

She slowly opened her eyes, and looked at him. "Whatever you can't live without," she answered quietly, throwing her arms around his neck, and pressing herself to him as close as possible. The tears were rolling down her cheeks soundless like her wishes that if she clung to him strongly enough she would not be taken away.

Jack quickly wrapped his arms around her, both anxious and confused, uncertain as to the reason of her outburst. There was a chance that it was really connected with their conversation, however he had a feeling that there was something more to it than that. He stroked her hair, and she sobbed into his chest, her uneven breathing ghosting across his skin through the opening in his shirt.

"Lizzie?" he whispered hesitantly, but she did not answer, only snuggled closer in response.

And suddenly the realization dawned at him, and his eyes widened at the thought: she was scared.

But scared of what?

"Lizzie, what-" he started, trying to make her look at him, but she shook her head, burying her face into his neck.

"Please, just hold me," she whispered in a strangely exhausted, almost pleading voice. "Just hold me, Jack. For a moment, just for a moment. Please." _For the last time._

He stared in amazement and dismay at the top of her head, at her hair still wet from their brief underwater journey.

And as much as he enjoyed holding her, he could not help thinking that there was always a bad aftermath every time they were so close.

* * *

"How do you feel?" asked Will with an uncertain smile, placing his hands on his father's shoulders.

"I'm not sure, actually," answered Bill Turner in a low voice, rubbing his forehead. "I don't even know how... why...," he sighed, and grimaced. "I have such a chaos in my head," he said, blinking, and shielding his eyes from the sun with the back of his hand. "I was on the _Flying Dutchman_, and then... and then..." he squinted. "I don't really know when and how I fell into the water," he said pensively, wrinkling his forehead.

"Don't think about it now," said Will with a reassuring smile. "You're here now."

Bootstrap slowly looked around, and then shifted his eyes to his son. "William," he said, blinking, suddenly realizing that what he saw was real, and it was really his son talking to him.

Will smiled. "Yes, that's me," he said with a small chuckle.

Bill did not smile, but looked around once again. "I'm..." he hesitated, growing more and more confused. "I'm on the _Black Pearl_."

"Yes," nodded Will rising to his feet, and helping his father to stand up as well. "You're alive," he added in a low, warm voice.

Bill darted his eyes to him. "What... what do you mean, William?" he asked, certain that he must have misheard something.

"You are alive," repeated Will with a small smile.

Tia Dalma slowly walked across the deck, and stopped next to Barbossa who was watching the scene with a frown on his face.

"Death is upon this ship," she said in a low voice, her eyes fixed on Bill Turner who did not seem to believe in what Will had just told him.

Barbossa gave Tia Dalma a grim look. "Aye. To my knowledge he was dead, but apparently-"

"I wasn't talking about him," replied Tia Dalma darkly, and then walked away, ignoring Barbossa's questioning look.

* * *

"Lizzie, what's going on?" asked Jack in a low, but urgent tone of voice, after holding her in silence for a longer while. "What do you know of all this? Why is Bill Turner here? Why is he alive?" An image of a storm flashed across his mind. The mutiny... But not the mutiny as it had really happened... The mutiny as in... those strange hallucinations. For a moment he was not even sure which one was the actual sequence of events... "Why am I alive?" He added almost as an afterthought, staring frowningly into the distance.

She brushed her lips against his neck, and looked up. "I'm sorry, I just..." she wiped the tears away from her face with the back of her hand. "I stepped on the glass," she gestures toward the black shards on the floor. "My feet hurt. That's all," she said with a small smile.

Jack glanced at the remains of the black globe, but then looked back at Elizabeth in disbelief. "You don't think I'm going to believe that explanation," he said in a husky, slightly irritated tone of voice, pushing her down onto the bed.

Elizabeth gasped in surprise, and her eyes widened even more, when he knelt by the bed, and started tugging off her boots. "You won't walk out of this cabin, unless you tell me what's going on," he said taking her bare foot in his hand, and lifting it to look at her sole. He frowned at the cuts, brushing his thumb over them. Elizabeth trembled, locking her eyes with his when he looked up.

"I'm sorry, it's my fault," he said, taking her other foot in his other hand. "I broke it," he added in a low voice, glancing at the glass.

"Oh," she acknowledged quietly, taking a deep breath, and shifting slightly, but careful to keep her feet in his hands. "I see you made your choice," she said after a pause remembering his words. Jack looked up, catching a hint of amusement in her voice.

"I can still strangle you afterwards," he whispered with the trace of a mischievous smile flickering across his face, slowly raising one of her feet to his lips, his eyes never leaving hers.

Elizabeth's eyes widened in disbelief, and she took a sharp intake of breath when, to her utter astonishment, he actually pressed his lips to her foot, trailing warm kisses along her sole.

"Jack," she whispered through the fog that suddenly engulfed her, making her feel as if she was dreaming."What are you... why...," she trailed off, not able to say anything more.

He looked at her thoughtfully, and then suddenly stood up, and slanted his mouth against hers in a crashing kiss, pushing her onto her back and onto the bed, half-expecting her to push him away, and at the same time half-expecting her to say those words that for some reason he believed to be in her _somewhere_. In the bottom of her heart... in the back of her mind... in her lips returning his kisses with desperation that made him both elated and worried.

Elizabeth cupped his face in her hands, forcing him to break the kiss. It felt so wonderful, so _safe_ to be trapped underneath the beating of his heart, and yet she was not safe. She was gone. She was gone already, confined to some unknown place from where he could not (and this in itself felt so strange...) rescue her.

"Jack...," she whispered spreading her fingers, flattening her palms to cover as much of his face as possible, wondering how could anybody have such enthralling eyes.

"I'm just pondering forgiving you, luv. Don't interrupt," he whispered, leaning down, and kissing her lips so tenderly that it almost made her cry.

She closed her eyes. There was no feeling that could match this one, the feeling of... the feeling of everything making perfect sense, of every thought, every emotion falling into place. He glided his hands up her arms, sliding them into her hair, his fingers entangling in the damp strands, his lips pressing against hers mercilessly, sweetly.

She wrapped her arms around him, trying to pull him closer, a superfluous gesture for they could not possibly be any closer than they were already. A curious, half-conscious realization crossed Elizabeth's mind, and with mild astonishment she acknowledged that he was not undressing her, not even trying to. He only kissed her, and his every kiss seemed to be, contrary to what she had expected, more delicate, more hesitant, more tender.

He drew back, gasping for air, and watching her through half-lidded eyes, her own eyes closed, her lips parted, her breathing ragged. He drew his finger across her cheek, tracing the outline of her face with his fingertips. Laboriously, Elizabeth opened her eyes. She did not say anything. She only looked at him as he was looking at her – lost in her.

_Lost in me?..._

"Jack-"

"Shhh," he brushed his lips against hers. "Enough talking," he whispered, and she shivered at the thought of what he was going to do, but then he surprised her once again by nestling his head into her neck, burying his face in her hair, and laying perfectly still.

Elizabeth held her breath for a moment waiting for him to say, or do something. But nothing was happening, so she just closed her eyes, and began slowly running her hand up and down his back. She could feel his steady breathing against the skin of her neck, and she wondered whether he had fallen asleep.

It felt so abstract to just be with him like that. In silence, in an embrace.

In love.

Her eyes snapped open. _It's not possible..._

She felt his fingers threading through her hair, and she knew that he was not asleep.

"Jack..."

He rolled over onto his side, and propped his head on his elbow, scooping her into his arms with his other hand. She draped her arm over his waist, and rested her head on his shoulder, her eyes fixed on his face.

_It's not possible..._

He straightened his elbow, and slid his hand under her neck, pulling her head closer, and resting his forehead against hers, looking into her eyes so seriously that she was not sure what to make out of it. She shifted even closer to him, and he hugged her, drawing the back of his hand across her cheek.

Elizabeth stared into his eyes, her heartbeat quickening with every feathery light touch of his hand. His eyes glimmered faintly, and with every passing moment she was more and more mesmerized by the magnetic darkness of his gaze, by the way he looked at her, by the way his tanned fingers stroked her face, her hair, drawing endless outlines of her face as if he was painting her, as if he was making her with his touch, making her real, making her his.

She could not move. She wanted to lean into his touch, but she found that she could not even do that. She felt simultaneously heavy and weightless, hot and cold, weak and strong.

_Not possible..._

He moved his face an inch closer, and touched her lips with his. She closed her eyes, and quickly kissed him back. He smiled faintly, and kissed her again, a little harder. She slid her hand up his back, entangling her fingers into his damp dreadlocks, and pushing his head closer. He tightened his embrace, and slowly deepened the kiss, his coarse from wind and sea lips pressing urgently against hers.

In a moment she was thrown into the sea, into the storm, the infiniteness of iridescent colors enveloping her, washing over her, soaking through her, filling her with clear, shimmering joy, happiness so complete, yet so evasive that it frightened her as much as she crave it to last forever. She whispered his name, and finally he spoke, whispering her name in return; the names spoken so softly, so _thoroughly_ as if they contained volumes of words and meanings, thousands promises and confessions enclosed in single words, in their names whispered against each other's lips between kisses, between hastily drew breaths, between the words imprinted on their lips, but never spoken out loud.

_But probable_, thought Elizabeth absently, moving her hand to cup the side of his face. He caught her hand in mid-air, pressing his palm against hers. She smiled, and spread her fingers, and his fingers slid in between hers, and they laced their fingers together, still looking into each other's eyes unblinkingly.

"What is it, Jack?" she asked in a barely audible whisper, touching his forehead with hers again, and closing her eyes. "What is that?" she breathed.

He smiled, and kissed her lips. "Not curiosity," he whispered, studying her lightly tanned face, and a small smile forming on her lips. "Anymore," he added in a suddenly solemn voice, and Elizabeth opened her eyes, but before she had a chance to say anything, a loud noise coming from above broke the spell of the moment.

* * *

Barbossa stared at the sight in disbelief.

Because of the general confusion after coming back from the Locker, and the unexpected appearance of Bill Turner they had not noticed the approaching ships soon enough to either run away or prepare to fight.

"What's the hell is that?" snapped Barbossa, starting to feel really annoyed by all those surprising events which made him feel _as if _he was not in control of the situation.

Will froze in the middle of the deck, on his way to walk his father down the stairs and let him rest in one of the cabins.

He had completely forgotten about his deal. The deal which now, when his father was here, was absolutely purposeless. He did not need the_ Black Pearl _anymore. If he had only known...

But it was too late to redo his choices.

* * *

"Stay here," said Jack slamming the door shut behind him, and leaving Elizabeth alone and annoyed in the cabin.

"Stay here," she muttered irritatedly, slumping onto the bed, and putting on her boots.

She stopped in mid-action suddenly remembering... _God, he actually kissed my feet... _She sat for a moment in silence staring into the distance with a small smile on her face, and then all of a sudden she put her head in her hands, and burst out laughing.

Her clear laughter echoed in the cabin, until it seamlessly turned into crying, and she hugged herself, covering her mouth with her hand in order not to scream.

_It's too late to love me, Jack. It's too late._

* * *

Jack quickly reached the deck, impatient to see what was important enough to interrupt... He was not quite sure what had just happened, but it was certainly something that he would have rather had not interrupted.

"Mister Gibbs!" he called agitatedly, but stopped in his tracks almost immediately, raising his eyebrows in unpleasant surprise.

"Ah," Sao Feng smiled sourly. "Jack Sparrow. I was almost worrying you jumped off the ship when you saw me, giving me no occasion to welcome you back in this world," he said in a cool voice, while all of a sudden two members of his crew grabbed Jack by his shoulders, and dragged him forward to where all of the _Black Pearl_'s crew members stood, already captured.

"I wouldn't have missed that for anything," replied Jack, narrowing his eyes in an artificial smirk.

Sao Feng smiled. "Welcome back, then," he said, and after holding Jack's gaze for a moment, punched him hard on the nose.


	26. Chapter 26

A/N: _**Thank you so much for all the beautiful reviews!**_

Disclaimer: Disney owns PotC.

**Chapter 26**

"_Captain_ Turner?" repeated Jack in a strained voice, almost choking on the words.

Everybody looked at Will, as if he suddenly grew another head.

_Captain Turner? _Elizabeth stopped abruptly on her way up the stairs, noticing the suspicious crowd gathered on the main deck. She leaned against the wall, and cautiously peered outside the staircase, listening.

Will glanced around the deck uncomfortably, everybody's eyes fixed on him in astonishment. Bill Turner stood unsteadily, trying to understand what was going on, trying to sort out his thoughts.

"The ship is yours," said Sao Feng, giving Will a small, sardonic smile. "Or rather... was," he corrected glancing behind Will, who quickly, but not quickly enough turned around. Two pairs of strong hands grabbed him by the arms, and held him in place. "Now it's mine," added Sao Feng tilting his head to the side.

"Was," resounded a voice from behind.

Sao Feng turned around, and frowned. "What?"

"It was yours," repeated Mercer, walking out from the crowd. "Now it belongs to the East India Trading Company."

Elizabeth gasped, and carefully climbing two more steps up, very cautiously looked around.

On the right hand side from the _Black Pearl_ she saw white sails billowing in the wind.

* * *

"I prefer new friends to old," muttered Jack with a small pout to the guards who wordlessly escorted him on board the _Endeavor_. "Or young to old, for that matter," he added with a grimace when the door opened, and he was rather unceremoniously pushed inside.

"Ah, what a pleasant surprise." Beckett slowly rose from his desk. "It's been a while."

Governor Swann looked up from above a documents covered desk that stood in the other side of the large cabin. Two guards standing on either side of him kept their gazes fixed on the wall.

"Way too short for me liking," muttered Jack, glancing at the Governor.

_Bugger._

Beckett smiled faintly. "And here I was hoping for you to come and express your gratitude, but I must have overestimated your memory of savoir-vivre."

"Gratitude?" Jack raised his eyebrows, swaggering towards Beckett's desk when he had left it. "I'm afraid my memory does not cover reasons for my gratitude. To you." Jack picked up a piece of paper from the desk, and looked at it narrowing his eyes in absent interest.

The Governor looked down at the documents, listening intently to the conversation.

"You can't?" Beckett glanced at the Governor, and smiled. "I am astonished," he said, clasping his hands behind his back, and waiting for Jack to turn around. "Not for the first time," he continued, and Jack deliberately did not turn around, rather annoyed by the inexplicable hint of amusement in the man's voice. "I still remember my astonishment when I was informed that having learned about the East India Trading Company actions, instead of sailing as far away as possible," Beckett paused, clearly enjoying every word, "you stayed in the Caribbean."

Out of the corner of his eye the Governor saw Jack turning around from the Beckett's desk with a complacent smile on his face.

"I like the climate," he said nonchalantly, putting away the document with a wave of his hand.

Beckett's lips twisted into an ominously self-assured smile. "Of course," he said slowly, turning towards the door when it opened.

Mercer walked inside, giving Beckett a small shake of his head. Beckett's face remained expressionless, except for a small twitch of his mouth indicating a suppressed half-annoyance, half-disappointment.

Jack narrowed his eyes. "Bad news?" he asked walking around the desk, and perusing through the papers on the desk.

Beckett turned toward him. "I did hope to be able to provide the Governor with the whereabouts of his daughter," he said in a haughty, half-careless tone, glancing at Mercer who closed the door, and slowly crossed the room.

Governor Swann subconsciously let go of the quill he had in his hand, and looked up.

Jack sat back in the chair, and looked at Beckett curiously. "You didn't think she was aboard the_ Pearl_?" he asked with a hint of disbelief in his voice, smiling slightly. "Bad luck," said Jack reaching for one of the seals sitting on the desk. "Women aboard," he added, glancing at Beckett, and catching a glimpse of the Governor's worried facial expression, although he could not quite tell whether it was Elizabeth's supposed absence, or presence aboard the _Black Pearl_ that actually worried him.

Beckett snorted dryly under his breath, and walked to the small table in the corner. "It's funny you should say that, because only several weeks ago she was seen in Tortuga getting aboard your very ship," he said in a calm tone, pouring two drinks into small crystal glasses.

Jack looked up, putting on an exaggeratedly surprised look. "Really? Always knew Tortuga to be a risky port. You never know how many stowaways-"

"All I need is a piece of information," cut in Beckett in a firm voice, turning around. He walked to the desk, and offered Jack one of the drinks.

Jack looked up, trying to look amused, but there was something naggingly discomfiting about the man's tone. He took the offered drink, as well as the Beckett's one, and drank them both.

"Where do the Brethren meet," continued Beckett with an unmoving face, slowly walking towards the window. Jack pressed the seal that he had picked up earlier into the ink, lifted it, and looked at it, squinting. "And what is the significance of nine Pieces of Eight."

Jack took a random document, and placed the seal in the middle, smirking slightly. Beckett waited patiently; his back turned to the window, his eyes fixed on Jack. "That's two pieces," said Jack, looking at the seal with disgust, and dropping it on the desk. "Of information."

"So they are," said Beckett. "Two questions, two answers."

Jack pushed himself up from behind the desk, and smiled. "Best of luck with finding the answers," he said, heading towards the door, almost counting the seconds until Beckett spoke again, but instead of the voice he only heard a pistol being cocked, and a surprised gasp.

* * *

Elizabeth stood on the stairs, leaning against the wall, and trying to think what she should do. Everything was happening so fast, she could hardly understand the chain of events that had led to their current predicament. Jack had been taken to the _Endeavor_, and everybody, including Sao Feng and his crew who had attacked them was now held captive by East India Company.

What worried her most, however, was Will's role in the scheme. He had it planned all along, he had made a secret deal with Sao Feng. How? Where? When? In Singapore, but when? And why...

To rescue his father, she knew that. It was his only motivation for overtaking the _Black Pearl_. Elizabeth frowned, suddenly struck by an idea. Had he seen the kiss? He behaved oddly from that day on. That would have explained his actions quite thoroughly: the wish to rescue his father, and... revenge.

She stared absently at the scene on the deck. Barbossa was talking to Sao Feng, but his voice was not loud enough for her to hear anything apart from separate words. She bit her lip. She was not the only pirate here. Two Pirate Lords should be able to come up with a plan. Besides, she did not stand a chance against a ship full of soldiers, did she?

Or perhaps she was only looking fot a pretext...

Quickly, and soundlessly, she ran down the stairs, and across the corridor to the other way out from below the deck, wondering whether she would be able to swing onto the _Endeavor _unnoticed.

She reached the small staircase hidden around the corner, and was about to step on it, when she noticed a figure standing in the middle of the stairs. Her eyes widened, and she swirled around with a gasp, ready to run, but when she made a step away from the stairs, the same figure suddenly appeared before her. She wanted to scream, but somehow her voice left her.

She stood frozen to the spot, staring into the colorless, frighteningly calm eyes.

_I didn't even say good-bye... I didn't even tell him that I love him... I didn't-_

Her thoughts were interrupted by the cold touch of the herald's hand. She wanted to retract her hand, but he caught it, and held her hand in his. "At dawn," he said tonelessly, his eyes fixed on hers. Then he let go of her hand, and dispersed in the air like a shadow made out of grey mist.

Elizabeth stared at the empty space, unable to move, and only after a moment she remembered to breathe. Raising her hand to brush her hair behind her ear, she noticed a silver band around her fourth finger. It looked like a ring, but when she touched it she could only feel her skin.

"_At dawn." _At dawn. It was barely after dawn right now, so she had an entire day, and a night.

She smiled to herself brokenly. At least she had a chance to make things right before she would have to go.

A noise from above shook her out of her reverie, and she brushed the tears that suddenly welled up in her eyes with the back of her hand, and ran up the stairs as fast as she could.

* * *

Jack wrinkled his forehead in confusion, and so did Governor Swann, when the guards held him in his chair, while Mercer pressed the pistol to his temple, and cocked it.

Beckett smiled. "You underestimate my insight, Jack," he said, his eyes sparkling with cool satisfaction.

Jack smiled back at him, which was only one other option available, apart from shooting the man, and getting shot by one of the guards in turn. "Once again, I don't think I follow your reasoning," he said lightly, glancing at the Governor who looked truly puzzled, both by being threatened in such a way, and by the incredulous idea of using him as a leverage in the negotiations with a pirate who could have only less than none reasons to care for his well-being.

To his surprise, however, Beckett seemed very certain of his method. "Oh, I think you do," he said with a hint of sarcasm in his voice. "The answers to my questions, please," he said in a suddenly louder, coldly demanding tone.

Jack's smile widened in direct opposition to his mood. "Whatever gave you the idea, mate," he said looking at Beckett unblinkingly. "With all due respect," he added quickly with a brief, apologetic smile at the Governor, who was about to snort, and avert his eyes, but a flash of an intense emotion in the pirate's eyes stopped him. Subconsciously, he glanced down at where Jack's eyes lingered for just a moment, and to his further stupefaction he noticed a paper knife sitting on the desk right next to his left hand. He blinked.

"Apart from you staying in the Caribbean, the letters of marque being retrieved from among your belongings while I was specifically told they were not going to be given to you, and Mr. Turner's as curious as blazing sudden dislike of your person?" Beckett turned around. "Nothing," he concluded with a small, ironic smile.

"Blazing dislike?" Jack widened his eyes ostentatiously. "People are so ungrateful these days," he remarked with a grimace, examining his fingernails.

"Oh, I agree," said Beckett with a smile. "As I mentioned at the beginning, I did expect to be at least thanked for my choice of the date for my arrival in Port Royal," he said watching Jack intently.

Jack looked up at him, and sighed. "I'm afraid I don't follow your schedule closely enough to know where you happen to be at a given moment of time. And seeing that this conversation doesn't seem to take us anywhere, and that I'm rather tired-"

"Not enough sleep?" offered Beckett with sarcastic concern.

Jack squinted. "I can never sleep at sea. Too much salt in the air," he waved his hand, and forced a smile.

"I'm sure knowing how terrible it is, you wouldn't wish for _anybody _to suffer from sleeplessness," said Beckett in a low, monotonous voice, glancing at Mercer who still held the pistol pressed to Governor Swann's head. "Upon learning heart-wrenching news people tend to lose the ability to sleep peacefully, if at all," he added, looking back at Jack.

"Speaking of hearts..." said Jack happily, ignoring Beckett's implications, and looking around the cabin with great interest.

"It's not here," interrupted him Beckett in a cool, but slightly impatient voice. "I do not have all day. Where do pirates meet?"

"In taverns, most of the times," answered Jack putting his hands into his belt, his fingers closing around the handle of his pistol. "But also-"

"Do not," broke in Beckett in an annoyed tone of voice. "test my patience," he added in a low voice.

"Tell you what," said Jack, taking a few quick, staggering steps toward Beckett. "You'll send me back on my ship, and then your ship will follow mine to the meeting. What do you say to that?" Beckett stared at Jack, clearly irritated. "You can take a few hostages," added Jack after a moment of consideration. "The one-eyed one, I don't really like him," he grimaced. "Although he cooks well," he amended, squinting. "And Barbossa," continued Jack turning around, and walking once again toward Beckett's desk. "He's a Pirate Lord which makes him valuable despite his looks. You can take Turner as well. He sings well. Used to practice three hours a day. I think. Or was he drawing three hours a day? Can't remember," Jack scratched his forehead.

"No, you see, you don't understand," cut in Beckett, suddenly turning menacingly serious. "I'm not going to make any deals. I want information, and if you fail to provide me with it, Mr. Mercer is going to pull the trigger. It's very simple, Jack. And this is not a subject for negotiation."

"Everything is subject to negotiation," replied Jack with smile, and opened his mouth to continue, but a knock on the door interrupted him.

Beckett looked at the door questioningly.

"Tea, milord," sounded an oddly deep voice from the other side of the door.

"Ah!" Jack, who stood closest to the door reached for the knob, before Beckett managed to say anything. "How lov-" he started, smiling at whom he had expected to be a servant with a tea tray, but his smile froze on his lips at the sight, and without thinking, and with decidedly too much haste, he shut the door in half-dismay, and half-annoyance.

_I told her to stay in her cabin!!_

The slamming of the door, however, clearly attracted everybody's attention.

"Don't really feel like drinking tea now," said Jack with a twitch of his nose turning towards Beckett, who was already on his way to the door. He shot Jack an impatient look, and reached for the doorknob.

_Go away, Lizzie. Go away. Goawaygoawaygoawaygoawaygo-_

The pistol was fired immediately when the door opened, and if Beckett would not have flinched, the bullet would have landed directly in his wig, and consequently his head.

Despite his silent pleas, Jack had expected no less than something as _stupid _as that, and was already next to Mercer when the pistol was fired, knocking him down before he could react to what was happening.

At the same moment Governor Swann – despite the fact that the very idea seemed outrageous – stabbed one of the guards with the small paper knife that he had surreptitiously grabbed from the table as soon as he had noticed it, quickly staggering to his feet, and using the guards' confusion to his advantage. But as soon as he got out of his chair he was rather unceremoniously grabbed by his sleeve and pushed toward the door, and accidentally right into the person who had just entered.

"Father," whispered Elizabeth, her eyes widening in joyful astonishment, but before the Governor acknowledged that the person in a EITC soldier's coat, with her hair hidden under a hat, and with the voice strangely resembling his daughter's was, indeed, his daughter, they were both pushed through the door which slammed shut behind them receiving a series of bullets apparently meant for them.

"This way," breathed Jack grabbing Elizabeth's hand, and pulling her with him.

"This way," echoed Elizabeth to her still bewildered, and clearly overwhelmed by the entire situation father, swiftly taking his hand in hers.

"I told ye to bloody stay in yer cabin!" said Jack, glaring at Elizabeth over his shoulder, and gripping her hand tighter.

_I couldn't leave you. I love you too much to leave you. _"You didn't really think I would stay there, did you?" she asked breathlessly, squeezing his hand, and he was not sure whether it was just a nervous gesture, or something more.

He snorted under his breath, pushing a wooden door at the right side of the corridor, and dragging Elizabeth, and her father inside.

"Actually I did hope you might have listened for once," said Jack, almost reluctantly letting go of her hand, and taking a quick, assessing look around the cabin.

Elizabeth gave him a small smile that he could not see, and turned to her father. "I'm so happy you're alright," she whispered, throwing her arms around the Governor's neck. "I was so worried."

"Not half as much as I was worried about you, Elizabeth. Are you alright?" The Governor smiled faintly, looking her up and down, and trying to read the state and mood she was in in her face rather, than depend on her words.

"Yes, I'm fine," answered Elizabeth nodding vigorously. "More than fine," she added much to her own surprise, the memory of Captain Jack Sparrow kissing her feet suddenly springing to her mind. But she quickly pushed it away with a broken smile. _I will have twenty years to think about that... Now it's not the time..._

"Hate to interrupt," broke in Jack, attracting their attention, "but we have a predicament to get out of," he said breaking one of the windows, and indicating it with a elaborated wave of his hand. "'Cause some people can't just follow orders," he added under his breath.

Elizabeth blinked, suddenly annoyed. "I just rescued you!" she said defensively, walking up to him.

Jack widened his eyes at her. "Re- re-," he choked, and she was not quite sure if his stammering was fake, or if he really could not make himself say it. "I had everythin' under control, and ye just turned the entire plan to ashes," said Jack with a slightly angry pout.

"What?!" Elizabeth exclaimed so loudly, that Governor Swann looked toward the door with apprehension, quickly approaching the window. "What do you mean I turned-" she trailed off, and pursed her lips. "And what plan are you talking about?! You never have any plan!"

Jack stared at her, looking more aghast that she had ever seen him. "I don't think ye possess the extensive knowledge in the area, darlin'," he said, gritting his teeth, his eyes fixed on her face.

The Governor opened his mouth to intervene, rather taken aback by the argument, but most of all by the fact of somebody, of some _pirate _actually shouting at his daughter, and in his presence too. But before he had a chance to say anything, Elizabeth continued, taking a few more steps toward Jack.

"I possess enough knowledge in the area of you!" she said angrily, causing Jack's mood to change dramatically.

He looked at her, clearly amused. "As disappointing as it must be for ye, luv, I dare say ye do not," he said with a glint of mischief in his eyes, and in his smile, putting one of his legs over the window's frame.

Elizabeth blinked, not catching the meaning of his words immediately. "You are... insufferable!" she screamed, blushing, and feeling utterly ridiculous when she met her father's gaze, suddenly remembering his presence. "He's annoying," she added in a soft, explanatory tone, averting her eyes from Governor Swann's perplexed facial expression. As far as she remembered she had never screamed in her father's presence, and he had perhaps lived his whole life having no idea that she was capable of such behaviour.

"I'm still here," observed Jack narrowing his eyes in a smirk, and jumping into a long boat that was hanging on the side of the ship. He extended his hand toward Elizabeth with exaggerated courtesy.

Because of her pure irritation she considered just walking away, but despite the chaos in her mind she was luckily able to think clearly enough to know that it would have been a foolish thing to do.

Huffing with furious exasperation, she gave him her hand, and let him help her get into the longboat. Once inside, she snatched her hand away from his, shooting him an annoyed look. To her utter confusion he smiled, giving her the most sensual look she could have ever imagined, completely distorting the remains of her coherent thoughts.

Then he turned back towards the window, and helped the Governor into the longboat.

Elizabeth crossed her arms over her chest, and looked away. She had only one day. He should not annoy her! Or rather she should not get annoyed...

"Where are we going?" asked Elizabeth, trying to shake off her grim thoughts, and catching the worried look in her father's eyes. Jack stood in the longboat, cutting the rope with a knife. "The _Black Pearl _is taken-," continued Elizabeth, but her words were swallowed into the explosion, that suddenly shook the hanging longboat so violently, that the ropes went loose, and the boat fell into the ocean with unexpected force, before any of them had a chance to utter a sound.

One cannon ball hit the _Endeavor_, and the other the water next to the boat when it collapsed into the ocean, and capsized.

Elizabeth took a deep breath before submerging, but paid no attention to the rope that tangled around her legs, making it impossible for her to resurface. With her eyes wide open she furiously waved her arms and legs in the water, feeling that she could not hold her breath for much longer.

It crossed her mind that perhaps it was better that way. It was better to die than spend twenty years in some dreary place only to come back after that time to the world that would no longer remember her. Maybe her father would still remember her... Yes, he certainly would. But would Jack remember her after twenty years? Would he care?

Maybe it was her destiny after all. To drown. She would have drowned a long time ago already, if-

Suddenly she felt the rope in which her legs were tangled letting go of her. Strong arms wrapped around her, and pulled her toward light, toward the blue sky, and a gold ring of the sun.

She gasped when she reached the surface, coughing, blinking, and trying to catch her breath. Somebody brushed her wet hair away from her face, and when she opened her eyes she found herself in Jack's arms, his dark, murky eyes looking at her with angry concern.

He did not say a word, only looked at her, brushing her hair off her face with his hand which – and she realized that only after a moment – was trembling.

"Don't ye dare do that again," he whispered hotly into her ear, pulling her very close to him.

Elizabeth looked up at him, and blinked, puzzled. "Do what?" she whispered, still trying to calm her breathing.

_Make me fear that I could lose you again. _"Wear heavy clothes" he answered under his breath, pushing the EITC coat off her shoulders, and giving her a long, intense look before averting his eyes from her, and swimming towards the _Pearl _with his arm around her, the sounds of the battle swashing above them. Elizabeth looked around in apprehension, but was calmed by the sight of her father right beside them.

They reached the side of the ship, and began climbing with the help of the ropes. Already half-way up it occurred to Elizabeth that somehow the _Pearl_'s crew must have regained control over the ship, and that it was the _Black Pearl_'s cannons that had damaged _Endeavor_.

"It's the Captain!"

Elizabeth looked up, catching a glimpse of Marty peering over the rail. So the _Pearl _really was in their hands again. She smiled to herself faintly. _Their? _It was not her ship... She had no right to even think... In a way, once, she had killed this ship as well.

"Mother's love, miss Elizabeth, Jack!" Gibbs held out his hand and helped them up onto the deck. "The... Governor!" Gibbs blinked in astonishment, as shocked by the Governor's very presence as by the lack of the wig (which had fallen into the water when the boat had collapsed) on his head.

"Mr. Gibbs, what's going on?" asked Jack straightening up, and handing the stunned Governor his lost wig that he had managed to pick up while in the water.

Gibbs took a quick step forward, and leaned toward Jack. "Barbossa made a deal with Sao Feng," he said with a grimace.

Jack raised his eyebrows. "Can't remember granting the chartman rights to bargaining on board me ship," said Jack dryly with a small twitch of his nose. "What kind of deal?" he asked suspiciously, alarmed by Gibbs' wincing facial expression.

"Well," Gibbs cleared his throat, looking uncomfortably between Jack, Elizabeth, and the Governor. "One that ye won't like."

"Guessed as much," muttered Jack, squinting.


	27. Chapter 27

A/N: _**Thank you so much for all the amazing reviews!**_

Disclaimer: Disney owns Jack, Elizabeth, etc.

**Chapter 27**

"What?!" exclaimed Jack in a high-pitched tone of voice, causing Gibbs to flinch.

"I guess Barbossa thought miss Elizabeth was below the deck. They just went there with Sao Feng," said Gibbs rubbing his forehead.

Elizabeth stared at Gibbs wide-eyed, but still not looking even half as aghast as her father.

"Oh, and I figured that perhaps..." started Gibbs, wishing to somewhat break up the tension, and gesturing with his hand toward Will. Two members of the crew who were guarding him brought him forward.

"Ah," Jack looked at Will with dark solemnity. "Put that treacherous turncoat into the brig."

Governor Swann blinked, and glanced at Elizabeth who did not say a word, only looked away with a gloomy look on her face. As much as she could understand, or at least try to understand Will's actions, any attempts to defend him would have been futile, and also she could not really find the right arguments for making Jack not regard Will as a traitor.

Not to mention the fact that having only one day and a night, it was easier to settle and resolve everything between her and Jack, when Will was not around... She closed her eyes, feeling horrible, horribly selfish. _"Pirate."_

Will did not say a word, apart from shooting Elizabeth a blank look, and then he was quickly taken away, and escorted to the brig, followed by Bill Turner who had watched the scene in bewilderment, and decided to talk with his son first, and then talk to Jack, and hopefully, eventually find out what was going on.

As soon as they disappeared from view, Barbossa and Sao Feng emerged from below.

"Ah, here ye are!" said Barbossa in a pretendedly cheerful tone of voice, and with a grin on his face, while the look in his eyes was one of clear irritation.

"Good. I almost thought you were about to play some kind of deceitful trick on me," said Sao Feng in a low voice, addressing Barbossa who glanced at him incredulously.

"I heard ye made some interesting arrangements," said Jack when two Pirate Lords were close enough to hear him, his eyes piercing through Barbossa with almost tangible annoyance.

Barbossa smiled. "Ye don't mind, do ye?"

"Perhaps!" exclaimed Gibbs in desperation at the sight of Jack's hand flying to his pistol, and hoping to avoid turning the discussion into a fight. Everybody looked at Gibbs, who did not really know what to say next. "Perhaps anybody fancies a dinner?" he said happily, struck by an idea.

"In the morning?" asked Sao Feng in a calm voice, looking at him curiously.

Jack rolled his eyes. "Let's settle the matter quickly," he said, drawing Sao Feng's attention back to him. The pirate's eyes flickered to Elizabeth, who moved a few steps toward Jack.

Governor Swann listened to everything half-baffled, half-enraged, on the verge of intervention.

"It's already settled," replied Sao Feng with a pale smile. "Me and my crew helped in clearing your ship from the East India Company soldiers, and now we sail to Shipwreck Cove. And I take the girl," he explained in an infuriatingly calm tone of voice, leering at Elizabeth.

Gibbs noticed, with rather inappropriate in such difficult circumstances amusement that the expressions that appeared on Jack and the Governor's faces were almost identical.

"No, ye don't," said Jack, glaring at Barbossa, who squinted in annoyance.

Sao Feng turned to look at Barbossa giving him an ostentatiously questioning look. "How am I supposed to understand that?"

"Ye're supposed to understand that ye shouldn't make deals with people who have nothing to offer, and he," Jack waved his hand at Barbossa," has nothing. It's my ship, my crew, my-" Elizabeth held her breath. "My concubine," he added in a slightly strained voice, not really knowing whether getting rid of Sao Feng was worth getting slapped by Elizabeth and/or strangled by the Governor. But seeing that at that point he really had nothing to lose, he draped his arm around Elizabeth's waist, and pulled her toward him possessively.

Elizabeth stared into the empty air with wide eyes, blushing, and trying to decide whether she should slap Jack before her father would kill him, but suddenly her train of thought were broken by Jack's hand sneaking under her shirt when he held her close after his horrid announcement.

Gibbs ran his hand across his forehead looking nervously between all the parties, especially worrying about Governor Swann who paled at an instant and stared at Jack with mixture of emotions that Gibbs would rather not go on describing.

Sao Feng merely raised his eyebrows. "I thought she was with that little thief that tried to stole my maps."

Barbossa looked at Jack, rather eager to hear his answer, as the exchange began to amuse him greatly.

Jack twitched his nose, telling himself that since Elizabeth had not slapped him, and her father had not killed him it could only mean that they developed full and complete understanding for his actions, and therefore would not mind if he carried on...

"She was," he said, and Elizabeth had an impression that he was taking advantage of his hand under her shirt a bit more than it was necessary. "But now she's with me. I bought 'er from him."

Gibbs blinked, and swallowed, and this time did not even want to look at the Governor.

Elizabeth tensed, but to Jack's relief did not say anything, although he could only imagine what she would do to him once they were out of trouble. He did not fail to notice, however, that she shivered under his touch, and he brushed his fingernails against her skin a little harder, suppressing a smirk at her sudden, sharp intake of breath.

_Wouldn't be surprised if she killed ye again after that, mate._

The Governor watched the scene in disbelief, speechless from fury, although somewhere in the back of his mind he knew that it was only some kind of spectacle. Nevertheless, ruining his daughter's reputation was hardly an unacceptable course of action, even if its objective, as he suddenly acknowledged, was securing her safety.

"You must have paid him less that he expected, for he is wondrously upset with you," said Sao Feng with a sarcastic smile, glancing at Elizabeth, who decided that it was better to play along, and _just_ for the sake of playing along leaned her head against Jack's shoulder. He glanced at her, certain that she was fainting, because he could not imagine any other reason for her to cuddle against him in public. But to his surprise, and relief she seemed quite conscious. _That's interesting._

"I don't know why everybody keeps telling me that he doesn't like me," said Jack with a hint of complaint in his voice. "I really don't care," he added, tracing with his thumb small circles on Elizabeth's back.

"And I don't care whom she's with. She was a part of the agreement, and now she's mine," said Sao Feng, losing patience.

"Yer agreement with _him_," said Jack, pointing to Barbossa. "And seeing that she's _mine_ _mistress_," he said in a slightly nonchalant tone of voice, and Elizabeth had an irritating impression that he actually enjoyed the entire situation!? "And not his," continued Jack, "ye can't really expect me to honor that agreement, now, can ye?"

Sao Feng narrowed his eyes. "I don't really see any way around this agreement," he said sternly.

"Well, I do," said Jack with a smile, suddenly pushing Elizabeth away, drawing out his sword, and pressing it to Sao Feng's neck.

Several crew members from the _Empress_ wanted to stand in his defence, but before they even pulled out his weapons, the crew of the _Black Pearl _blocked them from approaching, aiming their pistols at them.

"Shall we have a pleasant side by side little trip to Shipwreck Cove?" asked Jack with a smile. "Or should we continue our _conversation_, although I can't guarantee it to be pleasant," he said looking Sao Feng straight in the eyes.

Elizabeth watched the scene with a strange feeling of... pride? fear? admiration? The Governor glanced at her, and blinked, puzzled, wondering why she looked... enchanted, _as if_.

Sao Feng's eyes pierced into Jack's in silence. "Very well," he hissed at last through his gritted teeth. "But this is not the end," he added in a hardly audible, metallic whisper.

Jack smiled. "Oh, of course it isn't," he said in a suddenly cheerful tone of voice, patting Sao Feng on the shoulder. The Pirate Lord slowly shifted his eyes to his shoulder where Jack's hand had been, and then looked back at Jack, hardly keeping his fury at bay. "Seeing we just got back from there, and all," Jack patted him on the shoulder once again, and to Elizabeth's relief (as she thought that there was really no point in infuriating the man any further) swiftly walked away.

Sao Feng huffed in annoyance, and hastily turned around, shouting orders, and heading back to his ship.

"I have to say-" started Barbossa, somewhat astonished.

"To the brig," cut in Jack, and before Barbossa acknowledged what was happening Pintel and Ragetti caught his arms with happy smiles.

Jack waved his hand at them, gesturing to take Barbossa away.

"How dare ye," bellowed Barbossa, squinting, and snatching himself from Pintel and Ragetti's grasp. "I'm the Pirate-"

"So ye are, mate," said Jack smiling at Gibbs, who hit Barbossa on the head from behind causing him to collapse to the deck unconscious. "An' so am I. Mr. Gibb- Oi!"

Jack blinked, trying to evade the slap, but Elizabeth's hand was faster, and she slapped him before he moved away. She was glaring at him, although he noticed with some amusement that her rage seemed somewhat fake. He glanced at the Governor whose attention was slightly distracted by Gibbs, who having come to the conclusion that it would have been better to drag the man's attention from the argument, quickly addressed him, questioning him which cabin he would like to take, and whether he would like to eat and drink something now.

"How dare you-," shouted Elizabeth, her hands curling into fists.

"No, no, no, Lizzie," interrupted her Jack, wiggling his finger at her. "We don't have more room in the brig. Already full of traitors, turncoats, tools, and all that, so please refrain from putting me into an undesirable position of havin' ye join them," he said only half-humorously. Truth to be told, she was really pushing it too far. She had deceived him, _killed _him, and now she was slapping him for saving her skin once again, and he really did not care whether it was only a display for the sake of the Governor.

"Take it all back!" she shouted, widening her eyes at him meaningfully, but he either did not understand that she was only pretending, or – more likely – he chose to pretend that he did not understand.

"Take what back, luv?"

Elizabeth pursed her lips, and looked at him, annoyed. Why was he doing this? She had enough explaining to do yet, and she already was not looking forward to recounting to her father everything that had happened without worrying or upsetting him. And now Jack was only making it all more difficult for her. She had only one day. _They _had only one day. _And one night... _

"Couldn't you come up with something... something more..." she huffed angrily, Jack raised his eyebrows, "appropriate!" she exclaimed thrusting up her chin.

Jack narrowed his eyes. "That wouldn't have been as entertaining," he said in a low, shimmering voice, that sent shivers up her spine.

Elizabeth sighed in exasperation. She glanced at her father, who looked rather bewildered, and it crossed Elizabeth's mind that he might have started suspecting something... She took a deep breath, and decided to say something that would end the conversation. Then she would talk to her father, and then go to Jack, and explain... and... and... she did not know what she could do to make him at last forgive her, so they could spend that last day together... without fighting and arguing... She looked him straight in the eye, and threw at him the only question that came to her mind that could possibly aggravate him at the moment:

"Why did you send Will to the brig?"

The look of amusement disappeared from Jack's face so quickly, that she was not sure whether he had even looked amused a moment ago.

"Ah," he said with a sharp note of bitterness in his voice, and she unconsciously took a step toward him, but then all of a sudden he reached to his pocket, and tugged a chain of keys out of it. "How could I," he said, throwing the keys to her. Elizabeth caught the keys automatically, staring up at him in stupefaction. "Please, do free him. After all, what has he done? Made a deal with that slimy wiglet? Wanted to steal my ship? Send me to my death?" he flashed her an ardently sarcastic smile. "Nothing new 'bout _any _of that," he said looking at her piercingly, and she quickly blinked several times to stop the tears. "Go ahead. I'm sure ye've lots of things to talk about. Common interests, murderous schemes, and all that," he added holding her gaze for a moment, and then storming away from her.

Elizabeth stared after him, the keys feeling cold in her hands. So cold... Cold like shackles...

Why did he get so angry? She had not really said anything...

"Elizabeth?"

She darted her eyes to her father. She almost forgot... But somehow she could not make herself say something lightheartedly, or ignore that look in Jack's eyes. She did not want that look to haunt her forever... to haunt her for twenty years... She wanted to remember his smirks and grins when he looked at her as if she had never given him a harsh look... She wanted to remember the taste of his lips when he kissed her as if she had never killed him with a kiss... She wanted to remember his touch when he touched her as if she had never done him wrong...

She pushed her hair behind her ears. "I'm sorry, I... I'll be right back," she said without waiting for her father's reply, and running toward the stairs where Jack had disappeared a moment ago.

Governor Swann followed her with his eyes, not understanding anything that had happened.

"Governor," Gibbs started hesitantly. "There's nothing to worry about. They're always bantering like that," he said with a reassuring smile, although even he had noticed something peculiar between Jack and Elizabeth, something that he had not noticed before.

The Governor looked at him for a moment in silence. "Yes," he said at last. Gibbs smiled. "That's precisely what worries me."

Gibbs rubbed his forehead, stifling a chuckle, and then turned to Pintel and Ragetti ordering them to stop staring, and take unconscious Barbossa away. Then he looked back at the Governor, and offered to take him on a little excursion around the _Black Pearl_. "It's a beautiful ship," he said with a smile, trying to put the Governor in a better mood.

_A pirate ship_, thought the Governor wearily, nodding his head in reluctant agreement.

* * *

"It's all my fault," said Bill Turner in a low voice, sitting on a small stool in front of the cell in the _Black Pearl_'s brig.

Will stood leaning against the wall, staring into the distance. "No, it's not. I did what I wanted to do, what I had to do. I don't regret it," he said with more conviction than he felt. I would do it again" he added halfheartedly.

"How can you say that?" Elizabeth stepped down from the stairs, quickly approaching the cell. Bill Turner stood up, looked at her, and... wrinkled his forehead. "You betrayed us," said Elizabeth in a whisper, walking to stand in front of Will on the other side of the bars.

"Us?" Will frowned. "What 'us'?"

Elizabeth sank her teeth in her lower lip. "Us... Me, the crew-"

"I only betrayed Jack," Will cut her off, his voice firm, his eyes fixed on her. She had not said anything when they had taken him into the brig. She had not even looked at him. And he had a nagging impression that she was almost _glad _that he had done what he had done, because it gave her the opportunity to distant herself from him even more. He had noticed that she was mentally moving away from him since she had woken up, or rather... since the Kraken had taken down the _Pearl_, or... the moment before that...

"Only Jack?" Elizabeth stared at him in disbelief. "You brought Sao Feng, Beckett and the entire East India Trading Company upon us!"

"We were to be safe," answered Will in a hollow voice, watching her face in the dim light. She was so beautiful... His Elizabeth. His fiancee.

"We? What 'we'?" she asked rather thoughtlessly, receiving a strange look from Will in response.

"Me and you," said Will calmly. "And the crew was not to be harmed."

Elizabeth snorted. "Oh, I'm sure the likes of Beckett and Sao Feng would keep to their agreements."

"I don't trust them less than I trust Jack Sparrow," retorted Will, looking at her in wonder. Why was she defending him so?

"That's ridiculous," replied Elizabeth crossing her arms over her chest, and fiddling with the keys. "He saved our lives more than once-"

"Whose lives?" Will interrupted her sharply. Elizabeth blinked. "I can't really recall when he _ever_ saved my life. But I do recall all the instances of his attempts to kill me."

"He never wanted to kill you!" exclaimed Elizabeth with irritation.

Will pushed himself away from the wall with a snarl, and quickly approached the bars. Elizabeth stepped backwards. "Why exactly are you defending him? He asked in a low voice, looking at her intently.

"I'm not defending him," whispered Elizabeth unconvincingly. They looked at each other in silence for a moment. "I have the keys," she said at last, averting her eyes from Will, and walking toward the cell door.

"You're Elizabeth, right?" Bill Turner smiled at her, when she looked at him for the first time since entering the brig.

"Yes," said Elizabeth quickly, suddenly aware of his presence, and slightly embarrassed by not introducing herself earlier. She looked at him startled by the change in his appearance. She remembered him from the past. A cheerful, agile, merry boy, and here he was, broken, and gloomy man with sad eyes... and yet in those eyes she could still see that light that she remembered, a sparkling light emanating from the soul of a free, life-loving person.

"William talked about you," explained Bootstrap, looking at her with curiosity that suddenly alarmed her. And the reason for the alarm soon proved to be well-justified. "Have we..." he started tentatively. "I'm sorry," he laughed under his breath. "But..." he tilted his head to the side. "I... I don't know... I have an impression that I've seen you before..."

Elizabeth froze, but tried to keep a straight face. Will squinted. "I don't think so," said Elizabeth with a small smile. "But I'm very pleased to meet Will's father," she said extending her hand to him.

He shook her hand, still looking at her thoughtfully, but not saying anything more. With a smile, Elizabeth stepped to the cell, tried several keys before finding the right one, and opened the door.

"Why did he let me go?" asked Will, walking out of the cell.

"I have to talk to my father," said Elizabeth with a sigh, and before Will stopped her she quickly turned around, and ran up the stairs, hoping that he would not follow her.

Glancing over her shoulder, she headed straight for the Captain's Quarters. She wanted to talk to Jack before going to her father. The conversation with her father was going to be long, and she knew she could not possibly survive it if she did not talk to Jack first. She suddenly realized that, for some reason, she could not concentrate on anything else when Jack was upset with her.

She stopped in front of Jack's door, and raised her hand to knock, but turned her head at the sound of her name.

"Elizabeth?" Governor Swann slowly walked toward her from the other side of the corridor. He glanced at the door, and then back at Elizabeth.

"Father," Elizabeth smiled half-happily, half-nervously. "I had to get Will out," said Elizabeth hurriedly, awkwardly lifting the keys for the Governor to see. "I will just give the keys back to Jack, and then I will see you on the deck, and we will talk," she said as naturally as possible.

_Jack_. The Governor frowned at the name, at the way she said it "Elizabeth, what is going on?" he asked as patiently as possible, looking at her concernedly.

"Please," Elizabeth whispered urgently, and then smiled to balance the strange fever in her voice. "I will come in a moment. I just-" she raised the keys once again, but her father stopped her hand in mid-air, and looked at her seriously.

He wanted to ask her so many questions, but there was something so pleading in her eyes, that he did not have the heart to start questioning her now.

"I will wait on the main deck, then," said the Governor slowly, after a pause, looking at her intently, and Elizabeth caught both a trace of worry, and a trace of warning in his voice.

"I will be right there," Elizabeth nodded, pressing her lips together in a strained smile.

The Governor smiled faintly back at her, and walked away, overwhelmed by everything that had happened. He had never seen his daughter as angry and irritated as he had seen her today. And he had never seen her as shy and nervous as right now.

He walked up the stairs, and looked absently around the deck with a frown on his face.

"_I think it would be rather exciting to meet a pirate."_

He spotted Will leaning against the deck, the crew eyeing him suspiciously, but not as suspiciously as they were eyeing him and his wig for that matter. It was apparently a rare sight on a pirate ship-

The Governor stopped in his tracks, suddenly realizing the ghastliness of the situation. He was on a pirate ship. His daughter was on a pirate ship. And they were sailing toward Shipwreck Cove, which was probably some pirate port, and as far as he understood they were going to some pirate meeting. It was all absolutely horrifying and ridiculous. The events of the past few weeks made him rethink many notions that he had thought he had fixed, but his attitude toward piracy did not change much. The crimes of East India Company were unarguable. But the crimes of pirates were evident as well.

"_Actually, I find it all fascinating."_

He stood for a moment watching Will Turner's grim facial expression, and he felt, and knew that something was wrong between him and Elizabeth.

And somehow he was more than reluctant to think what could have possibly caused that situation.

* * *

Elizabeth knocked, and knocked, and there was no answer, so half-anxiously, half-angrily she pushed the door open, torn between apologizing right away, and throwing the keys at Jack with an angry huff.

She walked in, slamming the door behind her.

"I didn't say you could come in," said Jack in a harsh voice, casting her a dark look.

Elizabeth forced a smile, even though the glint of steeliness in his eyes made her heart clench. "How did you know it was me?" she arched an eyebrow, trying to look amused, but thinking that the shadow of sadness and exhaustion on her face must betray her.

"Nobody else would walk in uninvited," he said in a low voice, not really answering her question, his face unmoving, and she wondered whether he was really upset over that one sentence about letting Will go, or perhaps that one sentence was only a trigger that had brought back the memory of her deed with fresh vivacity.

"I wanted to thank you for rescuing me... again," she said, holding his gaze, and deciding that the best course of action would be throwing him out of balance, but she apparently overestimated his regard for her apologies.

He sneered at her, and pushed himself away from the desk against which he had been leaning, and sauntered toward her. "So you came to kill me again?" he asked stopping in front of her, and she was not sure whether she wanted to step back or throw herself into his arms at the moment.

"What?" she wrinkled her forehead in confusion.

His eyes roamed all over her face, as if he was trying to decide on which part of her face his eyes should focus. "It seems that is the way things are. I keep saving your life, and you keep taking mine."

"I killed you only once!" she shouted irritatedly, struck by the absurdity of her words only after she had said them.

Jack grinned. "_Only once_," he repeated, looking amused, but she was not sure if he was. "That might be right," he said pensively, putting a finger to his chin, and looking away. "How do I _dare_ to even bother you with mentioning it all the time," he said in a low voice, shifting his eyes back to her. His eyes were glimmering, and for the first time it crossed Elizabeth's mind that his eyes were like the sight sky, full of stars and mysteries, and she felt a wave of heat falling over her like hot stardust.

"I think you mentioned it enough," she said quietly. "I think you should forgive me by now," she added with a pout, wondering whether he even cared for her pouting.

He smiled briefly, and glanced at the keys. "How is dear William?" he asked casually, his eyes boring into hers with challenging intensity.

"Why did you let him go?" she asked, only then remembering the keys, and handing them to him.

"It seems to me you did," he answered, taking the keys from her, but keeping her hand in his. She wanted to retort, but the meaning of his words suddenly seemed unclear. "He would've escaped anyway," amended Jack, saving her the trouble to retort. "Ruining the lock in the process, no doubt."

Elizabeth snatched her hand out of his grasp. "I have to talk to me father," she said turning around, hoping that he would stop her.

"I thought you wanted to thank me?" his voice were blank, but she swirled around with light in her eyes, that made his heart skip a beat.

Here she was, in his cabin, alone, talking to him, looking at him, slightly distressed, desperately brave, and very lost, and he kept taunting her and himself with all those nonsensical games that suddenly seemed superfluous. He took a step toward her.

"How does one thank Captain Jack Sparrow?" she asked, watching him coming closer once again. He turned around, threw the keys onto his desk, and then looked back at her. "How does one apologize to Captain Jack Sparrow," she added quietly, glancing at his hand when he drew it across her face, smirking slightly.

He leaned forward, almost brushing his lips against hers, his hand tangling in her hair, and she closed her eyes, calmed by his touch, safe in his embrace, when he slowly closed his arms around her.

"By telling the truth," his voice, suddenly deprived of any hint of scorn, but demanding nonetheless made her eyes snap open. She shook her head with a puzzled expression on her face. He narrowed his eyes, and cupped her face in his hands, stilling her movements. "The truth, Lizzie," he repeated, resting his forehead against hers.

"I didn't know you're the one for the truth, Jack," she replied smugly, her hands finding their way onto his shoulders.

"And I didn't know you're the one for thanking and apologizing," he retorted, his lips pressed against hers; smiling.

She kissed him softly, and he quickly kissed her back. She giggled, for the very first time in ages it seemed, and kissed him again. He returned the brief kiss, and for a moment they just kept planting soft kisses all over each other's faces, until Jack buried his head in Elizabeth's hair, and whispered:

"I dreamt about you."

Elizabeth stiffened. "About me?"

"Aye," he kissed her neck, and she felt his mustache tickling her when he chuckled. "I had those hallucinations, those dreams, you know, about meeting you in the past."

Elizabeth's eyes widened, and she tightened her embrace around him to keep herself from falling. "In the past?"

"Yes," he trailed slow kisses along her neck, and the side of her face. "You came to Tortuga, and you kissed me even before telling me your name," Elizabeth gasped. "And you tried to warn me about the mutiny," he chuckled again. "Dreams like that," he muttered, lifting his head, and pulling her into a fierce kiss.

She broke the kiss trying to collect her thoughts, and staring at him in disbelief. _He remembers. He remembers. He remembers!!_

Should she tell him? Should she tell him that those dreams were not dreams? That all of that had really happened? That she was his? That she wanted to be his? That she loved him?

"I dreamt about you too," she said after a pause, outlining his lips with her fingertips. He smiled roguishly, and leaned forward to kiss her again, but then she said something that stopped him, and he stiffened in bewilderment when she said in a quiet, humming voice: "And about shadows on the moon and fairy tales..."


	28. Chapter 28

A/N: _**Thank you so much for all the great reviews!**_

Disclaimer: Jack, Elizabeth, etc. belong to Disney.

**Chapter 28**

"About... shadows..." Jack swallowed, "on the moon, and-" he stopped in mid-sentence, his breath being taken away for a moment by the very memory of..._ fairy tales_ flashing across his mind.

Elizabeth bit her lower lip, and nodded, looking deeply into his eyes. She did not know if she should tell him... She did not know if she was allowed to tell him... She did not want to put him in danger only because she wanted to satisfy her own, selfish wish that he would remember, that he would _know _that those couple of days in the past had really happened, that every minute of it was real.

Jack looked at her in bewilderment, for once rendered speechless. Elizabeth cupped his face in her hands, and kissed him. Perhaps it was not important, perhaps there was no sense in explaining all of that to him, especially that then she would have to go into details, and that would inevitably lead to telling him about her deal, and she did not want to tell him about that. She did not want him to feel responsible for what she had done, she did not want him to blame himself. It was her choice, her agreement, two lives for twenty years of her life. It was not even all that much now, that she thought about it... Two lives. She saved two people, and no matter what would happen to her she could always find consolation in the thought that she was not suffering for nothing.

And most of all she did not want a false hope that he would wait for her... She had a feeling that he might feel obliged to tell her that he would be there for her when she returned, and she did not want to hear it, because she knew she would cling to this promise hoping against hope that he would keep it, even though she knew that pirates kept no promises, that even he – that _especially_ he, after what she had done to him – would not keep that kind of promise.

She deepened the kiss, trying to suppress all the grim thoughts that were rushing toward her. She wanted to make the most of those last hours before-

"How come you know what I dreamt of, 'Lizbeth?" asked Jack, breaking the kiss, tightening his embrace around her, and looking at her curiously.

Elizabeth smiled faintly. "I guess I had the same dreams as you," she said quietly, almost forcing herself to say it. It was the right thing to say, it was the best explanation that she could give him. A half-truth, and at the moment she could not afford more than that. _They _could not afford more than that. The time was running out.

Jack wrinkled his forehead, surveying her face with a glimpse of worried suspicion in his eyes. "Would you tell me what exactly did you dream about?" asked Jack cautiously, vacillating between the feeling of mad joy, and cold fear. For some reason the possibility of their dreams being identical scared him as much as it made him happy. There was something unsettling about it...

"You said that somebody threw a rabbit at the moon, and that's why there is that large shadow on the moon's surface," said Elizabeth tentatively, brushing her thumbs across Jack's lips. His eyes widened even more, and he looked at her, transfixed. "And..." she took a deep breath, "you took me on the _Pearl_, and..." she trailed off, suddenly embarrassed. It was one thing knowing that he remembered, and the other telling him about it. Also, what was the point of telling him about the past, if he already knew what she was going to say?

"'Lizbeth," he whispered, crashing his lips against hers, and pulling her into a bruising kiss to which she responded immediately. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and snuggled into him as close as possible, feeling the tears welling up behind her eyelids. She squeezed her eyes shut, and tried to drown in the kiss, forgetting about what was to come, trying to forget that after the next dawn she would never kiss him again. "How could you possibly-" he whispered, catching his breath.

"Shhh," Elizabeth forced a smile, keeping her eyes closed, and kissed him again, but then a knock on the door caused her to draw back.

Jack sighed with exasperation. "What is it?" he bellowed giving the door a harsh look. Elizabeth quickly blinked her tears away, taking advantage of Jack's eyes being fixed on the door.

"It's me, Bill," answered Bootstrap from the other side of the door, and Elizabeth froze. What if Will's father remembered something? (_He certainly does remember something_, thought Elizabeth, recalling their brief conversation in the brig.) What if he was going to mention what he remembered to Jack?

Jack looked at Elizabeth with an unhappy expression on his face. She smiled, and kissed him. "I have to talk to my father too," she whispered into his ear, and brushed her lips against it. "I will come later," she added in a quiet voice, pressing her lips to his, and wondering when they had exactly established that thread of peaceful understanding between them.

Bill Turner knocked again. "Jack?"

"One moment!" shouted Jack, pulling Elizabeth closer. He leaned down and kissed her so ardently that she had to dig her fingernails into his shoulders to keep herself from fainting.

His eyes snapped open for a moment at the sudden memory triggered by the gesture.

Memory?... No. A dream. Just a dream...

"Jack," she mouthed with a weak smile, but he ignored her indication that they should stop, and kissed her again.

At last he broke the kiss, and they locked eyes for a moment, and then Elizabeth slipped out of his embrace, and tiptoed towards the door, hiding behind them. Jack smirked, and she thought that at least for a little while everything was only bright and cheerful between them.

Jack walked to the door, and opened them hastily. "Welcome back," he said with a small smile, letting Bill in.

As soon as Bill Turner walked a few steps into the room, Elizabeth noiselessly sneaked out of the cabin behind his back. Jack reluctantly closed the door behind her. Oddly enough, the incident made him feel anxious rather than glad, and with half-hearted irritation he suddenly remembered that he had not even managed to extract one single answer from Elizabeth to any of his questions.

_Too smart for yer own good ye are, luv. Must tell ye this one day._

Why had she been asleep? Why had she woken up when- Jack blinked at the sudden realization of the connection that had not occurred to him before: Elizabeth had woken up when he had accidentally broken the black glass globe. _Tia Dalma_, he thought immediately. Perhaps he should get his answers from her rather than Elizabeth. Perhaps she was easier to talk to than Elizabeth, after all. He chuckled inwardly. _Everybody _was easier to talk to than Elizabeth.

_Than Lizzie._

"I still don't understand what happened," Bill Turner's thoughtful voice broke into Jack's thoughts.

_Lizzie... _How had he introduced her in his dream to Barbossa? _Lizzie Sparrow. _Jack smirked inwardly. _It does have a fancy sound to it, doesn't it?_

"I'm sorry we didn't happen to talk earlier," said Jack taking a few steps toward Bill.

_Lizzie. Lizzie Sparrow._

"There was hardly time for talkin'," observed Bootstrap with a faint smile. "An' I've to say I'm rather lost. See that, Jack?" He brought his hands to his face, and tapped his cheeks. "No sea life," he said with a dry laugh.

_Elizabeth Sparrow._

Jack smiled. "Don't worry. Ye still look tolerable." Elizabeth's face, and her strange smile when Bill Turner was hoisted from the water, and onto the deck suddenly sprung to Jack's mind, and his brows furrowed at the thought. What did she have to do with _that_?

_What did ye have to do with that, Lizzie Sparrow?_

"Why am I here?" asked Bill Turner after a pause, the smile slowly fading away from his face, replaced by a frown.

_Why the hell are ye calling her that?!_

_Shut it! I can call her what I want!_

Jack raised his eyebrows. "I'm afraid I don't possess any knowledge on the subject," he said, looking around the cabin in search of rum.

_But ye know that's rather odd..._

_Ye're odd!_

_That's exactly what I'm tryin' to tell ye..._

"I'm free," said Bootstrap in a hollow voice, and Jack darted his eyes to him, and squinted, trying to concentrate on what the man was saying.

"I can feel it," said Bill. "I don't know how it is possible, but... I'm alive, and I'm free. How is it possible, Jack?" he asked with sincere curiosity.

Jack looked at him pensively, and sighed. "I have no idea, mate," he said in a low voice, grabbing two bottles of rum from some hiding place in the wall, and handing one bottle to Bill with a strange sense of deja vu.

"This can't be good, then, can it?" said Bill Turner grimly not even making it sound like a question, and eagerly taking the bottle from Jack.

"Look at the bright side," said Jack with a smile. "At least until it turns into the dark one," he added with a frown.

* * *

Elizabeth ran up the stairs, quickly crossing the deck. She had a feeling that she had to do everything in a hurry, even if it would really make no real difference whether she ran or walked. She spotted her father standing by the railing, and walked toward him, but then she noticed, somewhat uneasily, that he was talking to Will who stood next to him.

She looked around frustratedly, not knowing what to do. She hoped to avoid talking to Will as much as possible. In fact, she did not feel that she owed him any explanation anymore. He had not told her about his deal with Sao Feng. He had put all of them in danger to rescue his father. She could not blame him for doing whatever he could to save him, but at the same time she felt that the incident had revealed to her some unknown part of his mind, a part that she was not familiar with, and that felt so foreign that she suddenly felt no obligation to explain her actions to him.

Of course it had been her who started it all. She was the first to start keeping secrets, and the longer she thought about it, the more certain she was that he had known... or at least suspected something... or... could he had seen it? She sighed. It did not matter, even if he had. Not many things seemed to matter if one had only a day and a night to live.

Elizabeth absently scanned the horizon wondering if it was dark... _there_. Was it dark in the Maelstrom of Time? Was it even a place in the ordinary sense of the word? Will she be able to keep her thoughts and memories from fading? Will she be able to keep herself from fading... What if the Maelstrom of Time was like the _Flying Dutchman_, what if after twenty years she would become a part of it, as if? Or what if the Maelstrom would become a part of her...

She grimaced, and pushed her hair behind her ears. _Stop thinking, Lizzie_, she smiled inwardly at the memory. _Lizzie Sparrow. _Taking a deep breath, she quickly walked toward her father and Will. _I have no time to lose_, she thought somberly.

"Father," she said with a small smile, stepping between him and Will, who to her surprise and relief swiftly excused himself by saying that he had to see how his father was feeling, and she was about to tell him that he was talking with Jack right now, but fortunately stopped herself, and just watched him walk away.

"I'm so happy that you're alright, Elizabeth," said Governor Swann drawing Elizabeth's attention to him.

"Me too," she said with a smile, wrapping her arms around her father's neck, and hugging him tightly. "That _you_ are alright," she said with a laugh, pulling away.

He smiled, taking her hands in his, and squeezing them lightly before letting go. "William told me what happened," said the Governor, looking at Elizabeth concernedly.

Elizabeth's eyes widened a little. "What... happened?" she echoed uncertainly, not knowing what exactly his father, or Will for that matter meant.

"About your journey to the world's end," said the Governor with a slightly embarrassed smile, as if to indicate that he was treating his words seriously only for the sake of some unspoken agreement, but personally – of course – considered them ridiculous.

"Oh," Elizabeth crossed her arms over her chest, and looked at the wooden deck floor, but quickly collected herself, deciding that it would be better to slightly change her father's perspective. "And did he happen to mention that because of _his_ arrangements now we have not only Beckett, but also Sao Feng on our heels?" she said looking at her father with a frown.

The Governor looked at her with a strange expression in his eyes which reminded her of when she was little, and had done or said something silly, but he had not pointed that out in order not to make her feel embarrassed. "He did," said Governor Swann after a pause with a trace of a smile flickering across his lips.

"Oh," Elizabeth rested her elbow on the railing, beginning to feel awkward.

"Is that why you are upset with him?" asked the Governor cautiously.

Elizabeth darted her eyes to her father. "Is that what he said? That I'm upset with him?" she asked with a hint of annoyance, digging her fingernails in the black wood, but then quickly caressing the railing with her fingertips almost apologetically.

The Governor glanced at her hand. "No," he shook his head with a faint, thoughtful smile. "He said that every step that he made to help his father was a step away from you, and that right now he does not know if that distance did not grow too great."

Elizabeth stared at her father with wide eyes, only half-concentrating on his actual words, and more on the fact that Will was discussing _such _issues with her father _at all_, and even without her being present. "Well, I didn't think it would worry you that much," she said in a low voice.

"What wouldn't worry me that much?" The Governor blinked, puzzled.

"If I didn't marry Will," she blurted out, glancing between her father and the sea.

The Governor merely raised his eyebrows, and blinked again. "The reason being..." he started cautiously, looking at Elizabeth intently.

"Oh, I don't know," Elizabeth shifted uncomfortably, swirled around, and leaned her back against the railing. "Maybe we just weren't meant to be," she said quietly, staring absently into the distance, and thinking that it was not how she had wanted this conversation to proceed, but perhaps it was better that way. Perhaps it was better to come to the truth as close as possible.

Governor Swann wrinkled his forehead, and subconsciously followed Elizabeth's gaze, stiffening at the sight. Elizabeth cringed suddenly noticing what she was (absently!!) staring at, and glanced at her father who unfortunately chose that moment to look at her as well. She blushed, angry with herself for doing so, and utterly embarrassed. She hastily turned around, and stared out at the sea, scolding herself inwardly for her stupidity. Her and _his_. Why had he had to go to the helm at that very moment when she had her eyes _accidentally _fixed on the helm?!

"Elizabeth," the Governor's voice suddenly turned more serious, or perhaps just slightly desperate. "Could you tell me what exactly-"

"I'm sorry for interrupting," Gibbs broke into the conversation receiving from Elizabeth the most surreptitiously grateful look that she could muster. "I just wanted to say that breakfast is waiting in the galley, if-"

"Of course!" Elizabeth cut him off. "Let's go," she said enthusiastically.

The Governor did not seem too pleased, but along with Elizabeth followed Gibbs. When they were walking down the stairs it crossed Elizabeth's mind to excuse herself, and go give Jack a quick hug- She stopped in the middle of her train of thought wondering how something as ridiculous as that could even occur to her as a possibility.

Apart from Cotton and his parrot who left the dining cabin as soon as Gibbs, Elizabeth and the Governor entered it, there was nobody inside, but when they sat down at the table (which took Governor Swann by surprise, because of the elegant, white tablecloth, and slightly dishevelled flowers in the middle of it), Ragetti emerged from the back door, and Elizabeth had to struggle hard to keep from laughing.

Ragetti put a tray on the cabinet, adjusted a white hat on his head, smoothen his apron, picked up the tray, and carried it to the table. Gibbs grabbed a bottle of rum, and was about to take a swig, but Ragetti snatched the bottle out of his head, and without answering Gibbs' questioning look, poured his rum into a small tea cup, and only then gave it to him. Gibbs wrinkled his forehead, looking at the cup suspiciously. The Governor was given a cup of tea, and Elizabeth was given tea as well. She exchanged a look with Gibbs, wondering if it was him who had arranged everything in such a way, or was it rather somebody else, and the idea somehow made her feel strangely happy.

"Is Beckett following us? I didn't see any ship apart from the _Empress _when we were on the deck," said Elizabeth conversationally, addressing Gibbs.

"Aye," Gibbs smiled complacently. "They're followin' us, most likely, but seein' that they've lost their main mast it can take them a tad bit of a greater effort to catch up with the _Pearl_", he said with a wink.

Elizabeth smiled, and then looked at the fruit that Ragetti placed on the table, which suddenly reminded her of the morning on the _Pearl_ in the past, and of the heart-shaped pieces of fruit that Jack had brought her. She sighed, and took a sip of her tea, staring into the liquid, and wondering how much Jack really remembered? Did he remember it all like a recent dream, or rather like a distant memory? She would gladly just run to him, and ask...

Closing her eyes, she tried to think about something else. There was no use in pondering the past... or the present, for that matter. Soon, she would be deprived of either.

"This is very good," said Ragetti, trying to convince Governor Swann to take some meat from the plate that he was holding in his hands. The Governor politely declined, having his own opinion on the subject. "Yesterday everybody ate it," continued Ragetti, sincerely certain that the meat was the best part of the breakfast.

"Thank you," said Governor Swann for the fourth time, shaking his head with a polite smile.

"Ye heard the poppet's pop," hissed Pintel who suddenly appeared next to Ragetti. "He ain't want that," he whispered angrily, smiling sweetly at the Governor who tried to analyze the expression 'poppet's pop'.

"It's really-" insisted Ragetti, but Pintel snatched the plate away from him, not seeing any reason for having the Governor eat his favorite food, especially that the Governor clearly did not even want to eat it. Ragetti tried to get the plate back, but Pintel held it in a firm grasp, and to get rid of Ragetti's hands hit him on the back of his head, which unfortunately resulted in Ragetti's wooden eye snapping out of its place... and falling straight onto the Governor's plate.

Everybody stopped eating, and looked at the Governor who managed to put on an unreadable facial expression which he kept even when Ragetti reached into his plate, and cautiously took his eye from between pieces of cheese and fruit, muttering an apology, and shooting a hurt look at Pintel.

* * *

Jack stood at the helm trying to think about the course, about Shipwreck Cove, about Beckett and how the man could possibly know something that he himself knew only... _remotely_. But despite all those pressing subjects that he should be thinking about, the only thought that vibrated in his mind was Elizabeth's face near his, her lips on his, her hands...

He rolled his eyes, reached to his pocket, and pulled out his compass, but then rolled his eyes again, and put the compass back into his pocket. Why did he even bother.

Jack knitted his eyebrows, and stared out at the sea thoughtfully. _Sweet, beautiful Lizzie. _He gripped the spokes tighter and squinted. _Bloody, murderous wench._

_And ye love them both, don't ye?_

He turned the wheel to the right, frowning in search of a retort, but after a while he gave up.

_Aye. I do. More than... _He wearily looked around.

_And even that is a bloody understatement._

"Mister Cotton!!"

* * *

Governor Swann ate and drank as little as possible, not feeling very comfortable in the circumstances in which he happened to be, although he had to admit, at least to himself, that everybody was being exceptionally... nice to him, even though 'nice' was perhaps the strangest word that could be used in reference to pirates, but still...

Elizabeth was drinking her tea, and listening eagerly to Gibbs talking about Shipwreck Cove, although at the moment she would probably listen to anybody talking about anything, if it could only let her stay in the galley a bit longer, and therefore postpone the continuation of the conversation with her father.

Or perhaps she should just tell him the truth... In secret, of course. She could just tell him that she loved Jack- Captain Jack Sparrow, and- She rolled her eyes at herself in her imagination. Or she could just take a gun and shoot her father. Would amount to the same result, really. Not to mention that it would not be the complete truth, because she had no intention of telling him about what was going to happen to her at dawn; that at dawn, he was going to lose his daughter. It would cause him enough pain, there was really no necessity for troubling him even more by revealing her tangled feelings.

Suddenly, the door to the dining quarters burst open causing everyone to jump in their sits. Jack stormed into the cabin with a deep frown on his face, and a map in his hand. He stopped, and looked directly at Elizabeth in a way that made her blood ran cold.

"Can I have a word with ye, Miss Swann," he said in a low voice, and Elizabeth's eyes widened, her mind spinning as she tried to recall her latest actions in order to single out something that could possibly make him angry with her. But apart from her old and obvious deeds she could not think of anything.

"Yes," she said, not even thinking about demanding an explanation right away, and in a preferably irritated tone of voice.

Governor Swann first looked at her somewhat surprised, and then at Jack with angry annoyance, and was about to say something, but before he even stood up, they were both out of the galley, and the door slammed shut behind them.

* * *

"What have I-" started Elizabeth as soon as they were alone in the corridor, but was cut off almost immediately, and by nothing else, but... Jack's lips crashing against hers. He had pulled her into an embrace, and kissed her fervently, and in her utter astonishment she subconsciously kissed him back.

"What... have I... done?" breathed Elizabeth when they broke the kiss, gasping for air. "What did you... wanted to... talk to me about?"

"Nothing," answered Jack with an impish smile. "I just wanted to kiss you."

Elizabeth blinked in confusion. "Why?"

He chuckled, and brushed his lips against hers. "Must be something... 'bout yer lips," he muttered with a hardly discernible smirk, kissing her again.

"My lips?" asked Elizabeth breaking the kiss. "That's it?"

He looked at her with his eyes slightly narrowed trying to guess whether she was being coy, or perhaps she really did not figure out his feelings yet... "Well, no," he kissed her, and she returned the kiss. "But as far as other _areas_ are concerned, I'm condemned to dreaming and guessing," he whispered, catching her lips in between his, throwing her into the ocean, into the hurricane with every kiss.

She smiled, cupping his face in her hands. "And who... condemned you... to such a... grim fate... Captain Sparrow?" she asked, kissing his lips between the words.

"One hell of a pirate, no less," he answered, threading his fingers through her hair; Elizabeth's laughter muffled by his lips pressing against hers.

"That's unforgivable..." whispered Elizabeth, glancing at him through half-lidded eyes, but he seemed to lost in the moment to care about her pathetically blatant subliminal questions.

"Indeed..." he leaned down to kiss her again.

* * *

Despite Gibbs' reassurances that there was nothing to worry about (although Gibbs noticed that the more times he said it, the less he actually believed it himself), the Governor left the table, and headed for the door to see what was going on. He would not have anybody talk to his daughter like that. What was that pirate thinking? That she was a sailor? A member of his crew that he could shout at, scold whenever-

Governor Swann opened the door, took a step into the hallway... and froze.


	29. Chapter 29

A/N: _**Thank you so much for all the wonderful reviews!**_

Disclaimer: Disney owns PotC.

**Chapter 29**

"An' no more scribblin' on me maps! Savvy?" exclaimed Jack hoarsely, all of a sudden letting go of Elizabeth, and causing her eyes to snap open at the unexpected statement that came instead of the expected sensation of his lips pressed against hers.

But she just needed a moment to realize a probable reason. "Yes," she gasped, rather grateful for standing with her back turned to whoever happened to appear in the hallway, so this person could not see her flushed face.

"Good," said Jack sharply, wrinkling his forehead, and hastily walking away.

Elizabeth watched him go, turning her head only slightly, and wondering who was in the corridor, and hoping that it was everybody but one person. Slowly, she turned around... only to find exactly this one person that she would rather not see, looking back at her. She smiled faintly, blushing, and trying to guess if her father had seen her and Jack kissing, or whether Jack had managed to let go of her quickly enough.

The Governor stared at her wide-eyed, trying to convince himself that he had only imagined that only a moment ago _that_ _pirate _was about to kiss his daughter, and, worse still, that she was going to let him do that. Although he did not know why he should have imagined such a thing... if it was not the case. And somehow the look in Elizabeth's eyes was not very reassuring. Especially that she did not look frightened, but merely... guilty. Guilty, and... amused?

"_No more scribblin' on me maps!"_ Elizabeth tried to collect her thoughts, but suddenly she could hardly keep from laughing remembering what Jack had actually said.

"Elizabeth," the Governor took a few steps toward her. "This has passed all the levels of acceptability," he said irritatedly, and Elizabeth paled. "How does he dare talking to you like that!" Elizabeth blinked, and sighed inwardly with relief. "I-"

"No," Elizabeth shook her head, "it's alright. He was right. I shouldn't have been using his maps for... for..." she narrowed her eyes, searching her mind for a good excuse.

"For scribbling," the Governor finished for her, and she smiled, and nodded enthusiastically, but then stopped smiling, catching the irony in her father's voice; or concern rather than irony. Or both. "Elizabeth," the Governor looked at her searchingly. "Has he done anything to you?" he asked after a pause, in a low, serious voice, looking at her intently. Elizabeth blinked in incomprehension. "Has he," the Governor took a deep breath, "assaulted you?" he asked in a hollow voice.

Elizabeth widened her eyes at him. "No, of course not," she said with such certainty, that for some reason it made the Governor even more anxious. Elizabeth closed her eyes, and bit her lip. "If anybody it was me who assaulted him," she added quietly, and opened her eyes, looking at her father through the veil of tears that quickly welled up in her eyes.

Now the Governor's eyes widened in confusion. "Beg pardon?"

Elizabeth sighed, and looked at her father with a pained expression on her face. "I killed him," she said so quietly that the Governor was fairly certain that he had misheard her.

"I'm sorry, Elizabeth," he wrinkled his forehead, "I thought you just said you-"

"I did," she interrupted him in a strained voice, blinking back the tears. "And I just hope one day he will forgive me." She hugged herself, and looked away, not knowing why all of a sudden she decided to confess that, but suddenly she felt a bit lighter after telling somebody about it; somebody who would not hate her or condemn her. At least not immediately, not without hearing her out...

The Governor stared at her unblinkingly. Was that nonsense about getting Jack Sparrow from Davy Jones' Locker true? Will had mentioned that some mythical monster took the ship along with its captain into the depths of the ocean (and the Governor had even managed to keep a straight face while listening to all that), but he had not mentioned anything about Elizabeth.

"Elizabeth-"

"I chained him to the mast, left him, and escaped with everybody else," she said, shifting her eyes back to her father. "The Kraken was after him. Only him. I thought that it was the right thing to do to rescue everybody, and..." she licked her lips, the taste of Jack's lips still lingering there, like back then... "And to rescue myself." The Governor wrinkled his forehead, only half-understanding everything that she was saying. "Oh father," Elizabeth grimaced, and suddenly threw himself into his arms, and he automatically embraced her with a growing sense of panic. "I love him so much!..." she whispered ardently, and the Governor's eyes widened almost to the point of no return. He blinked several times, refusing to believe that he had heard her correctly this time either. "I love him so much," repeated Elizabeth, burying her face into her father's shoulder, and this time he was certain that she had said that. She really had said that!...?...! "What do I do?" Elizabeth clung to him, and continued in a faltering voice, desperately honest, so honest that he did not dare to interrupt her in order not to lose that trust that she was showing by telling him the words that he could feel were drawn from the bottom of her heart. "I don't know what to do," she whispered, her voice quivering. "I don't know if he will ever forgive me. Sometimes it seems like he did, even if he never said it, but then again maybe I'm just trying to make myself believe that he did. How could anybody forgive something like that?" she whispered feverishly, hardly stopping to take a sharp intake of breath. "And even if he could forgive me, he will never forget about it. I wished so many times I could redo all of that. I would have never- If I only could go back, and not do this... I would have rather sent myself to the Locker forever than- I just don't know how to make him believe that I am sorry. I told him that I am, but maybe he doesn't believe me, because earlier I had told him I wasn't, but it wasn't true even then." The Governor listened to her in bewilderment, afraid to move, afraid to breathe, trying to follow her fast-paced monologue as intently as it was possible with his own thoughts racing chaotically in his mind. "It could never be true. I love him too much. I love him so much I can't breathe," whispered Elizabeth, tugging on the Governor's sleeve. He looked around the corridor with unseeing eyes, astonished, frightened, worried, confused. The desperation in her voice, her vulnerability made his heart clench. He had never seen her like that. He had never even imagined her like that before. "But he will never trust me," Elizabeth went on in a shaky voice. "Even if he will forgive me... I just don't know what to do," she whispered, closing her eyes.

The Governor subconsciously rubbed her back to comfort her, even though perhaps he was the one who needed comforting at the moment. Her outburst caught him off guard, and shocked him. He was shocked by her feelings. He was shocked by the intensity of her feelings. And most of all he was shocked by the object of her feelings.

She loved him? She loved that man? _Loved_? He still could not make much sense of the entire story. Chaining to the mast, killing. It all somehow was beyond his grasp, the facts seemed unclear to him, unlike the emotions cascading from her every word, and he did not know what frightened him more: the words that she had said, or rather the startling realization that they were true, that the words she had said were real, and that he will have to deal with them.

"I'm sorry," Elizabeth pulled away, brushing the tears off her face with the back of her hand. "I never said that out loud before," she said with a broken smile.

"Elizabeth, I..." Governor Swann shook his head, for a moment hoping that it was only a dream, or a nightmare, for that matter. "I don't really know what to- how to-"

"I know," Elizabeth nodded, biting her lip. "I just wanted to tell you, wanted you to know," she said with a faint smile, "I'm so tired of not talking about it. I'd like to scream about it," she laughed nervously, and then grimaced, crossing her arms over her chest.

The Governor looked at her, terrified; terrified by her desperation, by sincerity that he could not fight, that he could not scold or reject. He felt that if he would say what he wanted- what he _should_ say it would destroy something that her confession created, something that he knew was rare. She had just told him something that she, apparently, had hardly even admitted to herself, and it would be unforgivable to betray her trust by making a crudely reasonable comment, which she would disregard anyway.

"I know what you think," said Elizabeth in a quiet voice. "About him. But he's not who you think he is. Not only. He's a good man."

"_He's a better man than you give him credit for." _Elizabeth's words flew across the Governor's mind, and he suddenly was not sure if even back then they had referred to whom he had thought they referred.

"Elizabeth," he gently took her by the arms, forcing her to look at him. "You can't... place your trust in somebody who has spent all his life breaking the law and escaping justice, deliberately and repeatedly acting against-"

"He rescued my life more times that I can count," cut in Elizabeth in a louder voice.

Governor Swann sighed. "Yes, but it has nothing to do with what I'm trying to-"

"I spent an entire night on a deserted island alone with him," continued Elizabeth, even though the Governor seemed not very fond of that particular memory. "I spent many days on his ship with him. He had more than one occasion to prove himself untrustworthy."

"It just proves that he is canny, Elizabeth," countered the Governor with a small, almost ironic smile that did not reach his eyes. "It still provides no ground for-"

"I love him," whispered Elizabeth, gritting her teeth to keep from crying. The Governor closed his eyes for a brief moment. "But I don't deserve him."

"Elizabeth!" Her father frowned, the ridiculousness of the entire situation gradually becoming more and more evident to him.

"Father, could you promise me something?" she said in a suddenly changed voice, looking at him intensely.

The Governor wrinkled his forehead, but Elizabeth took his hands in hers, and smiled at him pleadingly. "Yes," he said at last in a not very convinced tone of voice.

"Should something happen to me-"

"Elizabeth-"

"Please," Elizabeth squeezed his hands, and smiled faintly. The Governor sighed, and nodded for her to go on. "We are at sea, and there is a warrant issued for me," she smiled brokenly. "Too many bad things can happen to pretend that they can't. If something happened to me could you please tell him what I told you?"

"Tell him..." he looked at her, baffled.

"That I loved him." The Governor stared at her with an unreadable expression on his face. "Please," Elizabeth smiled weakly, but then cringed at the sudden noise caused by the galley's door bursting open, and Pintel and Ragetti running out of the cabin, arguing about something.

"I will go see what is happening outside," said Elizabeth taking this opportunity to excuse herself, and leave her father for a moment with his own thoughts after what she had told him.

She was not sure if telling him about her feelings was a wise thing to do, and she was not entirely certain what his reaction was going to be once he really acknowledged what she had said... and done. And what she felt. But she was relieved that he seemed more concerned than angry, and when she walked up the stairs trying to get out of his sight as fast as possible she thought with a small, sad smile that he would probably do what she had asked him to, and tell Jack about her feelings when she would be gone to the Maelstrom of Time...

* * *

"Ye know," Bill Turner put away an empty rum bottle, and sat back in his chair. "I've chaos in my mind."

"So do I," answered Jack grimly, his head resting in his hands, his absent gaze fixed at the maps on his desk.

"I mean," Bootstrap grimaced, "I've those..." he hesitated, looking for the right expression, "double memories."

Jack blinked, and glanced at him without moving his head from his hands. "Double memories?"

"Aye," Bill Turner ran his hand across his face tiredly. "I remember some things happening in different ways..." Jack tilted his head to the side, wrinkling his forehead. "An' I know that they can't all be true... but I don't know which ones are true... Or maybe they are all true?" he glanced up at Jack questioningly.

"I had... hallucinations in the Locker, and they keep comin' back," replied Jack averting his eyes, and looking back at his maps. "Or rather they never left. Sometimes they feel oddly... real."

"That's how hallucinations are supposed to be," said Bill with a faint smile.

"Aye," muttered Jack, twitching his nose, and reaching for a piece of paper that was showing from under one of the maps on his desk.

"Aye," Bill sighed, drifting away in his thoughts, trying to recall how had he left the _Flying Dutchman_, trying to recall _if _he had ever left the _Flying Dutchman_. Trying to remember if he had even ever _been _there. But he must have been there if he remembered being there... Unless he remembered being there without being there... He sighed again, and shook his head with a grimace.

Jack pulled out the sheet of paper, and looked at the drawing, thinking that he ought to lock all those sketches somewhere, before somebody found them.

He wanted to fold the paper, but then decided not to, and just placed it carefully in his desk drawer which was already full of similar drawings...

"Bugger," he muttered to himself irritatedly, trying to shut the drawer which was so full that it could hardly close. _Bloody Lizzie Sparrow would've been entertained should she ever-_

_What did ye just-_

_Oh, shut it! I bloody added 'bloody'!!_

_..._

"Stop chuckling!!" shouted Jack, causing Bill Turner to jump in his seat.

"I didn't chuckle," said Bootstrap uncertainly, blinking in bafflement.

Jack gave him an odd look, and quickly staggered to his feet. "But ye would if ye heard me thoughts," he said with a frown.

Bill's face brightened a bit. "Would I?"

"Well, I did," said Jack unsmilingly.

Bill chuckled.

* * *

Elizabeth walked to the stern of the ship, and leaned over the railing staring out at the ocean. She had always dreamt of being at sea, of getting lost in the horizon, in the immensity of colors around her, and she had never imagined that there was a price to be paid for what seemed to be so close, so available to everybody, so natural.

She wondered if it was dark in the Maelstrom of Time... Was it cold there? Humid? Lonely... The wind tugged on her hair, drying her tangled locks and blowing them into her face. She was grateful for the wind, because the wind was brushing her tears away, and she could almost pretend that she was not crying.

_So beautiful... _She would miss the sea... and the wind... and the sky... and... his hands, his face, his eyes, his lips, his smile, his voice, his ship, his freedom, the freedom that he imprinted in her heart on that night when she had burned his rum. Wasn't it always like that? He did something for her, rescued her life, or her soul, and she did something awful to him in return.

She suddenly remembered his face when he had faced the gallows. He had looked at her. In that last moment, before Will had cut him free of the rope he had looked at her as if expecting her to do something. Would she have done something? What could she have done?

She gritted her teeth, a wave of coldness washing over her. What if she would not have done anything? And if Will would not have done anything... Would she have just watched him die?

"I see ye decided to play along."

Elizabeth swirled around with a gasp. Jack looked at her with a small, roguish smile.

"Play along?" she echoed, still thinking about what she had just remembered. She should have done something back then. It was her fault that he had been caught. At least partly...

"Aye," Jack took a few steps toward the railing, and brushed his hand along the wooden surface. "Ye figured that ye don't have to do any work around the ship..." he paused, and slowly shifted his gaze from the sea to her, "being a captain's concubine an' all," his eyes sparkled with amusement, and he looked almost as if he really waited eagerly for a slap.

Elizabeth looked at him blankly. "I lied," she said quietly, biting her lip, and ignoring what he had just said. Jack stopped smiling, and tilted his head to the side. "I said," she licked her lips, and he dug his nails into the railing. "I said that I killed you only once. It's not true," she said clenching her jaw, and looking at the floorboard. Jack wrinkled his forehead, pushing himself away from the rail, and taking a step toward her. "When they were going to hang you," she whispered, crossing her arms over her chest, "I had no plan," she said, blinking back the tears. "I don't know what I would do if Will didn't-"

She stopped in mid-sentence, widening her eyes at Jack, who propped her chin with his hand. He looked at her unsmilingly, his eyes boring into hers, studying her face, and she held her breath, forgetting to blink back her tears, and feeling several warm drops rolling down her cheeks.

He did not wipe them away, but kept looking at her, and she could see the shades of different emotions flashing in his eyes, which made her wonder what he was thinking, what it was that he was trying to say... or not to say, for that matter, and it also suddenly crossed her mind that she had not done anything back then, because she had known that he was Captain Jack Sparrow, and subconsciously she had known that he would have escaped even without her help... And she did not know if she only imagined it, but it seemed to her that she had read that justification of her non-action... in _his _eyes.

He leaned closer. "How am I going to," he started in a husky voice after a long moment of silence, stopping in mid-sentence to clear his throat. "How am I going to believe you, if nothing changed," he said, slowly sliding his hand off her face.

She stared at him, suddenly wary, and quickly caught his hand. "What do you mean?" she breathed, her heartbeat quickening at an instant.

_Don't do anything stupid. Don't say too much_, he thought half-angrily, letting his eyes roam all over her face for a moment with that slightly distant, pensive expression on his face that reminded her painfully of that one day that she could gladly erase from her life. At least that part _after_...

"What do I mean?" his mouth twitched, a small, sardonic smile flitting across his lips. He snatched his hand out of hers, and roughly pulled her toward him. "What do you think I mean, Lizzie?"

She subconsciously leaned closer to him. "I like when you call me 'Lizzie'," she admitted on an impulse in an almost meek tone of voice, causing him to lose his train of thought for a moment. He blinked. It was difficult to argue with her when she was not... arguing back.

"That's hardly answers my question," he muttered, leaning closer.

"What answers your question, then, Jack?" she asked quietly, placing her hands on his shoulders, her eyes never leaving his.

_I like how ye say my name, Lizzie Sparrow._

_Well done, mate. Ye actually didn't say it out loud!_

"Ye know what," he said in as steady voice as he could muster with her chest pressed against his, her breathing uneven, her heartbeat quickened... Unless it was his heartbeat that reverberated in his ears. He could not remember when he had ever felt so overwhelmed by the simple act of holding a woman in his arms.

"No, I don't," replied Elizabeth in a low voice, glancing at his lips, and for a moment wondering why she could not feel the deck under her feet anymore, as if she was standing in the air, on the air, soaring above...

"'Lizbeth," he said almost threateningly, pulling her closer, and he was not sure whether her lips brushed against his accidentally or purposefully, but he knew how much it cost him not to capture her lips and kiss her senseless at that very moment. "I won't trust another man's fiancée. Proved to be quite deadly, if ye get me meanin', luv" he whispered, one of his hands moving up her back, and entangling in her hair.

Elizabeth looked at him for a moment in silence. "Would I be here, now, with you if I was his fiancée?" she asked with a grimace, taking a sharp intake of breath when lose strands of her hair caught into the jewellery on his hands.

"Am I hurting you?" he asked all of a sudden, trying to disentangle his hand, but she shook her head.

"I don't care," she said, looking into his eyes intensely. He stilled his movements, and knitted his eyebrows, but then she pressed her lips to his and kissed him with such sweet eagerness, that he discarded all his plans of carrying a poignant conversation, and extracting a set of vows and answers first, and just returned the kiss, tightening his embrace around her. "What do you want me to do?" she asked breathlessly, looking at him through half-lidded eyes.

He smiled briefly. "Tell him to go to hell," he whispered, brushing his lips against hers as he spoke, sending shivers down her spine with each movement of his lips. "Today. Here. Now," he kissed her again, deeply, possessively.

"I could, but..." she whispered, wrapping her arms around his neck tightly. Jack's eyes shot opened, and Elizabeth drew a shaky breath. "I don't want him to hurt you."

His lop-sided grin quickly brightened his face again. "I know how to handle a sword, luv, I assure ye."

He leaned down, capturing her lips into another kiss, but she pulled away, unable to keep herself from questioning him once again.

"Does it mean you forgive me?" She looked at him so earnestly, that for a moment he really wanted to give her the true answer.

"We'll talk 'bout that after ye'll send him away," he murmured against her lips.

She kissed him back, slightly confused, not really knowing how he could almost directly declare the willingness to duel over her, and at the same time insist that he was still upset with her.

"Jack..."

He smiled, and kissed her again, ardently, feverishly, and she wondered why was he doing all of that. Did he honestly feel something for her, did he honestly want to forgive her? Or was he just testing how much she was willing to sacrifice to earn his forgiveness? How much did she really want him to forgive her. Maybe it was just his way of getting his revenge, maybe it was just hatred with traces of desire.

Or desire with traces of hatred...

"Jack!" Gibbs came up running from behind one of the masts, but stopped dead in his tracks.

Elizabeth and Jack broke the kiss, abruptly turned their heads, and looked at Gibbs.

"Yes, Mister Gibbs," said Jack casually, narrowing his eyes, and tightening his grip around Elizabeth despite her subtle, but insistent efforts to slid out of his embrace.

Gibbs stood there, wide-eyed, opening and closing his mouth, and trying to remember what it was that he had wanted to say.

"Mister Gibbs," Jack's voice turned serious, and nigh threatening. Elizabeth stared at Gibbs' boots, blushing from embarrassment, and Jack's arm wrapped around her waist was not helping her feel better either.

Gibbs blinked, and swallowed. "Aye," he rubbed his forehead, slowly getting over the unexpected sight. "It's Barbossa," Jack rolled his eyes. "He regained consciousness, an' is rather upset 'bout bein' down in the brig, an' all, ye know," said Gibbs wincing slightly.

"As far as I remember ye were the one who knocked him down," observed Jack with a small smirk. Gibbs raised his eyebrows. "So deal with him yerself."

Elizabeth quickly leaned toward Jack. "I'll go talk to Will," she whispered into his ear, and then quickly snatched herself away from his embrace in case he still would not like to let her go.

But this time he did not protest, and just followed her with his eyes, a small smile hovering over his lips.

Gibbs waited for a moment for Jack to say something, but seeing that it was not going to happen, he cautiously cleared his throat.

Jack darted his eyes to him. "Anything else?" he asked with a frown.

"Well... no," Gibbs looked at him intently, risking a small smile. "I just... I'm sorry for... I didn't know-"

"There is nothing to know, Mister Gibbs," cut in Jack sharply.

Gibbs quickly straightened up. "Aye," he nodded, stifling a chuckle.

* * *

Elizabeth walked across the deck, smiling to herself, and still shaking from all the fervent kisses, trying to understand what they meant. What they meant for him... If he only knew how much she loved him...

_He would laugh at you._

_No, he wouldn't..._

She stopped in her tracks. What was she doing? What was she going to do... Tell Will that it was over, that she was breaking off their engagement? Should she tell him why? Or just make up some excuse? As if breaking off an engagement could be so simply excused...

And what then?

She leaned against one of the masts, and closed her eyes. What if Jack did not hate her, what if he really had some feelings for her... And she was just going destroy it all, make him believe that it could work out between them... make him believe that something could happen... maybe even make something happen... only to have him find her gone in the morning. Wouldn't it be just another betrayal? Another lie. She would break off with Will, showing him that it was more than forgiveness that she sought in his arms... And then...

Wasn't it why she had asked her father to tell Jack, if- _when _she would be gone, that she loved him? Wasn't it one of the reasons she did not want to tell him that herself? She wanted to protect him, to spare him that suffering that she was going through right now. And what she was going to do could only make everything worse... She could not play with his emotions like that...

She should not wish him to love her. She should wish him to hate her.

Selfishly, she wanted him to know what she felt. She wanted spend this day with him. This day, and this night... this night before that dawn... But it could only make _her_ feel better. She would do that for herself. He did not need that false hope (if he even wished for a false hope...). If it was his revenge, it would not harm him much not to take it. But if it was not a revenge, if it was something more, if it was... _a _feeling...

"Elizabeth?"

She opened her eyes, and looked up. Will stood in front of her, looking at her with guarded concern.

Her mind began to spin.

She would protect him, she would protect the man she loved.

...Sacrificing the man that loved her?

"Elizabeth, we have to talk," Will looked at her intently, studying her face, her glimmering eyes, a thousand emotions flickering across her face.

...Wasn't it what she had done before?

"Yes," she whispered, chewing on her lower lip.

...Now it was the only way too... And it would not hurt Will all that much... hopefully...He could just live on. She could leave a letter... make everybody think that she was dead when she would be gone to the Maelstrom of time at dawn...

"Elizabeth, I'm very grateful for what you did," started Will after taking a deep breath. "You saved my father. I will be never able to thank you enough for it."

...Will would be free, and Jack would not care... either because he did not care anyway, or because he would hate her after what she had done... what she was going to do now... _Oh Jack..._

"But I have to know what happened," continued Will, taking a step toward her. "I have to know what happened in the past. I have a feeling that something happened. You are... different... I'm sorry for not telling you about Sao Feng," he added, suddenly changing the topic. "I should have... I know... But that's not important now. I need to know-"

_...I should not wish you to love me. I should wish you to hate me._

"Let's get married." Elizabeth's voice flew across the air, breaking into his thoughts, breaking off his sentence. He blinked, staring at her in puzzlement. "Let's get married," she repeated, her eyes fixed on his, her voice hollow.

"Elizabeth..." Will said tentatively, gently, afraid that he misunderstood her.

She looked at him, forcing a small, happy smile. "Let's get married now."


	30. Chapter 30

A/N: _**Thank you so much for all the amazing reviews! **_**:)**

Spoiler: ...I hope you did not really think that for all this time Tia Dalma was just being sympathetic and altruistic?... lol

Disclaimer: Jack, Elizabeth, etc. belong to Disney.

**Chapter 30**

"Come in!" called Jack rather cheerfully, looking at the map splayed on his desk, and quickly staggering to his feet. "Ah," he said with less enthusiasm at the sight of Will entering the cabin.

_That was deadly fast, luv_, thought Jack with an inward smirk, glancing around the room in search of his pistol which he had put somewhere after having it cleaned a few minutes ago.

"Do you have time?" asked Will without pulling out his sword, which immediately struck Jack as odd.

"Do I have what?" he repeated, wrinkling his forehead.

Will glanced at the ceiling, and sighed. He would gladly go to somebody else, if there was anybody else to go to in that particular case. "Time. I wanted to ask you..." Jack knitted his eyebrows. "We wanted to ask you..." Jack froze."Could you marry us now?"

Jack stared at him with virtually no expression on his face, except for his eyes which blinked repeatedly. "Could I what?" he forced himself to ask, almost choking on the words.

"Could you perform a marriage ceremony," explained Will patiently. "As a captain I guess you can, so we wanted to ask if you could do it right now."

Jack slowly brought his hand to his head, and rubbed his forehead. So that was the day. That was the day when the whelp went insane. Or... "Ye haven't been snaggin' on me rum, have ye?" asked Jack, eyeing Will suspiciously.

Will raised his eyebrows. "No," he said, confused. "Why?" he asked, even though he knew he would probably either not like, or understand the answer.

"An' just when did ye come up with that lovely arrangement?" inquired Jack through his gritted teeth, ignoring Will's question, and wondering whether the boy was making a great use of heavy irony, and was going to attack him any moment, or perhaps... or perhaps it was all just another hallucination. And a good one at that. A bad one, that is.

"A moment ago," answered the hallucination, looking at him calmly.

Jack looked at Will in silence, waiting for him to disappear, turn into dust, or at least threaten to kill him. He waited for him to do something that would be logically connected with having his fiancee break up with him just a moment ago. Because it was what she had done, right? She had told him, she must have told him to go to-

"We just don't want to wait any longer. Always something seems to happen and interrupt," Will's steady voice broke into his thoughts mercilessly.

_What bloody 'we' is that sneaky, slimy, treacherous- Ah!_

"Shouldn't ye be down in the brig?" asked Jack suddenly, cutting him off.

Will frowned. "I thought we were past that," he said coolly.

"Were we?" Jack flashed him an artificial smile, wondering how could he find out what was going on without showing that he had no idea what was going on.

"You let me go," explained Will in a low, firm voice.

"Did I?" Jack clenched and unclenched his fist, considering the best angle to punch his interlocutor.

Will rolled his eyes. "Will you marry us now or not?"

Jack twitched his nose, trying to understand what was going on, finally coming to the conclusion that there was very easy way to find out. "Of course!" he said with icy cheeriness.

Will smiled briefly. "Thank you."

"I will see you right up on the deck, then, right?" asked Jack, looking at him piercingly, waiting for him to take back what he had said, and admit that the request was absurd, and he had just made it up to aggravate him.

Will nodded, and left the cabin, quietly closing the door behind him. Jack stared at the door for a moment, trying to collect his thoughts:

Let's see... A few minutes ago he was on the deck kissing Lizzie Sparrow senseless, and she was kissing him back eagerly. Then she had gone to tell the whelp to be gone, and now...

...and now the whelp had just announced that he and Lizzie Sparrow (_one day ye'll just start sayin' that out loud...)_ wanted him to marry them...?!...

_Very funny_, thought Jack irately, heading for the door.

As soon as he stepped into the corridor he noticed Elizabeth emerging from her cabin. At the sound of the door being opened, she subconsciously looked into his direction and froze. They locked eyes for a moment, and he tried to read something, _anything _from her face, but her face remained unreadable. And then, suddenly, she swirled around, and almost ran toward the stairs.

Jack blinked in confusion, but then narrowed his eyes, and started after her, catching her in the middle of the stairs, and dragging her back into the hallway.

"What are you doing?!" Elizabeth half-exclaimed, half-gasped in astonishment. She had thought that he would have been... surprised and mad and angry, but all of that – in her imagination – would have led to his indifference and silent hatred rather than _this_.

He dragged her back to Captain's Quarters, shoved her inside, and slammed the door shut behind them. Elizabeth stumbled a few steps backwards, trying to keep her balance. "How dare you-" she started unconvincingly, feeling cornered. She had hoped that they would not have had a chance to talk, and she felt cold at the very idea. What was she supposed to say?

_And what were you thinking? That he would just stroll onto the deck, and perform the ceremony with a smile on his face-_

"Jack!" she whimpered, when he pressed her against the wall, his hands gripping her shoulders.

"Can ye be as kind as to explain to me befuddled brain what's goin' on?" His eyes were shining darkly, and she had to force herself to look away, and not fall into the black ocean of his transfixing gaze.

"I'm marrying Will," she said quietly, secretly stealing for his touch, for his hands gripping her shoulders almost painfully... but it was still his touch, it was everything she cared for, and she wondered whether it was the last time he ever touched her...

He glared at her, and she could feel it even without looking at him. "An' when did ye make up yer mind as to doin' just that right now, I wonder?" he asked with a dark smile, inching his face to hers.

"Long time ago, if you recall," she replied evenly, her eyes fixed on the floor.

He roughly propped her chin with his hand forcing her to look at him. "I recall something entirely different," he said through his gritted teeth, considering shaking her until she would admit the truth, or throwing her out of the cabin. She deserved one of these. Or both.

Or neither.

He squinted, and after a moment of looking at her menacingly, suddenly slanted his mouth across hers, closing her in a tight embrace just in case she would try pushing him away. And she did try, although not very insistently which, paradoxically made him worry. He threaded his hand through her hair, pushing her head toward his, pressing her mouth closer to his, and taking advantage of her lips parting in surprise.

Elizabeth placed her hands on his shoulders, and tried to push him away. She knew she should do something if she wanted her plan to work. How could he believe that she really wanted to marry Will if she was letting him kiss her like that? But despite her mental efforts her heart and her body betrayed her, and she fell into the kiss tugging on the fabric of his shirt, but no longer in an attempt to push him away, but rather to pull him closer.

"I happen to recall _that_," he said in a low, husky voice, breaking the kiss, his eyes studying her face with angry solemnity. "Do you?"

"No," she answered quickly, trying to catch her breath, and hold his gaze.

His lips twisted into a cocky smile, even though his eyes remained serious. He lifted his hand, and brushed her flushed cheek with the back of his hand. "No, indeed," he snorted under his breath, and brought his lips to her ear. "So why are ye tremblin', darlin'?"

Elizabeth gasped. "It doesn't mean anything. It didn't mean anything. I was just trying to make you forgive me. I don't like feeling guilty," she said as coolly as possible, but not able to keep her voice from faltering. The words sounded oddly familiar, but in the haziness of her mind she was not able to remember if she had just said those words before, or only thought them, or maybe it was him who had suggested it...

He smiled against her neck, and planted open-mouthed kisses on her skin. Her eyes fluttered shut, and she bit her lip, stifling a moan. Why was he doing that? Why was he torturing her so? Why could he not just stay mad at her? It made no sense... His behaviour... and what he must have felt toward her... anger, disappointment, resentment, irritation... There was no logic in his behaviour.

Without even realizing what she was doing, she wrapped her arms around his neck, and tilted her head to the side.

"_At dawn."_

Her eyes snapped open, and she slid her hands to his chest, pushing him away, and gasping in surprise when his arms refused to let her go.

"Leave me alone! I will scream! Let me g-"

He kissed her again, this time without waiting for her to respond, but immediately trapping her lips and kissing her fiercely, only half-acknowledging the fact that he was giving away his feelings in all those ridiculously desperate attempts to keep her in his arms. For a moment he did not care whether she was serious, and what was the truth. He just wanted to feel her body near his, to feel her lips on his, to feel the light touch of her fingertips on the skin of his neck when she held onto him.

She was lying. He knew that much. _Why are ye lying, Lizzie Sparrow? _He could not guess her motives, wondering whether she was just testing him, impatient to have his forgiveness at last, curious to see what he would do if she really wanted to marry the whelp, or perhaps she was sincerely trying to convince herself that she did not give a damn about the fire between them, trying to force herself into that marriage.

Either way, he was not going to be on the losing side. Or on the admitting side, for that matter.

He kissed her until he felt her giving in completely, her body thawing in his arms, her lips as desperate as his own.

It crossed his mind, not for the first time, that there was more to the way she kissed him than curiosity, or even lust; much more than he had ever expected... from her... She kissed him as if there was nothing else that mattered, as if he was her entire world, her every feeling, her every thought, as if... as if she was in love with him.

He pulled away, smirking at the involuntary protest that escaped her lips.

In love or not in love - he thought with smug nonchalance, suppressing the overpowering sensation that the mere idea evoked - she was playing some game, and he was going to find out what that game was, why she was playing it, and most of all make sure that she would lose.

"Ah, don't look that disappointed, luv. I can still kiss ye from time to time when ye'll be married," he said in his best lighthearted tone. And even though his mind went dim at his words, his voice was firm.

Elizabeth blinked, still in daze, and uncertain, or rather certain that she had not heard him correctly.

"A moment ago you wanted to kill me for marrying him," she said hollowly, looking at him disbelievingly, her eyes wide open and alert.

He smiled at her. "Kill? Whatever gave ye the idea, luv. I just thought ye were goin' to abruptly end our acquaintance, but from the look, or taste," he smirked, "of it, ye seem more than willin' to continue, married or not."

She stared at him, stunned, and he had to gather all his self-control not to laugh at the sight of the absolute shock that appeared at her face.

_We're yet to remedy yer appalling lack of sense of humor, luv._

"What..." she swallowed. "What are you talking about?" she asked, feeling as if a cold wave washed over her leaving her soaking in the winter air.

He brushed his thumb along her lower lip. "I'm talkin' 'bout yer fondness of me person," he leaned down, but she tilted her head to the side, and his lips collided with her cheek. "No reason to resign from one's enjoyments," he cupped her face in his hands, and grinned. "As long as one is able to keep them secret," he kissed her lips, and then let go of her. "I'll see ye on the deck in a moment. Just have to retrieve the Bible, and all that."

He walked over to his desk, and squatted down to look into lower drawers. Elizabeth did not move, staring at him with astonishment that made her blood run cold.

Was it how he felt about it? About her? All along? All those discussion about forgiveness, kissing her, kissing _her feet!_, telling her to get rid of Will, was it all a game? A pastime? He was just _entertaining _himself, and her by default? Didn't it mean anything to him? Of course it didn't. How could it?, she thought bitterly, and yet the fact that he implied that they could just continue those _games_ after she got married seemed so outrageous, so... _wrong_, so devastatingly wrong, so... not like him, that she could not even find the words to voice her thoughts, and could only look at him with numb, cold feeling of betrayal.

Betrayal?... She curled her hands into fists watching him search his drawers. So that was how it felt like. She felt betrayed, she felt that he had exposed all of her emotions, and then burned them and laughed at the ashes. She was grateful that she had not been foolish enough to tell him that she loved him. He would have surely found her declarations of love very entertaining.

And yet, despite the pain caused by his words she felt relieved. There was nothing to worry about. He had no special feelings for her, he did not care, her disappearance or even her death would not affect him in the slightest. It was better that way. She should be happy, really.

And perhaps marrying Will was a good idea either. Maybe he would even wait for her... Maybe after twenty years she could have something to come back to...

She blinked back the tears thinking that there was only one person she wanted to come back to... only one person she never wanted to leave. There was no life without him, apart from him, beyond him... He was everything, everything that she loved, and cared for, everything she wished for, thought about, wanted to remember...

But did she even have the right to remember him? She wondered how much his attitude toward her now depended on what she had done... Was he behaving like this because he could never really forgive her or trust her, or would he have treated her the same way even if she had not left him to die? Would she have been always only a passing fancy? Was there ever a chance for something more? Would he have ever let her into his heart even if she had never done anything against him?

Jack perused through his drawers, and then proceeded to his bookshelves, knowing very well where the book he was looking for was, but having no idea what he would do once he found it, so he preferred to pretend that he was still looking.

So far, everything appeared to be going according to his freshly constructed plan. She seemed shocked, and taken aback. He had made a crack in her plan, apparently. Clearly, she had expected him to demand some explanations, to be angry with her, or shout at her, or simply refuse to carry out the ceremony. Maybe she had even expected him to _ask _her not to do this, he snorted inwardly. Begging Captain Jack Sparrow was not something that she would see anytime soon. Or ever. He might have fallen down on his knees to kiss her feet, but he would not do the same thing in order to request anything from her.

She was not going to do this anyway, he told himself firmly, pushing away a very pale shadow of apprehension that hovered above that reassuring thought. She just wanted to see what he would do. He could practically start counting the seconds until she ran to him, begging him to be serious, or telling him that she was not really going to marry dear Will-

The sound of the door slamming shut caused him to drop a book he was holding. He turned his head abruptly and blinked. Elizabeth was gone.

He threw the book into a far corner of the room with a grimace. She was not going to give up so easily, was she? He narrowed his eyes, glaring at the door. He could not decide whether he was more angry, or more amused. The unpredictability of the sea was nothing in comparison with the unpredictability of that damnably beautiful... or beautifully damnable _wench_.

He huffed in annoyance, and turned back toward the bookshelf, reaching for the black leather-covered Bible.

She was not going to beat him. There was no way she could beat him. Not after he had felt all those emotions and feelings storming and battling within her when she had kissed him. Not after he had witnessed all her defences fall one by one under a mere brush of his hand against her skin. Not after he had heard her whispering his name against his lips...

If, after all that, she was going to say "I do" to William Turner, then he was not Captain Jack Sparrow.

He gripped the Bible, and headed for the door, stopping before reaching for the doorknob.

Well. He certainly _was _Captain Jack Sparrow.

However...

He twitched his nose, and strolled back to the bookshelves, putting the Bible back into its place, and taking a different book with similar cover instead.

...However when one had to deal with Miss Kiss-and-Kill, one could never be too cautious.

* * *

"Are you... are you certain that you did not misunderstand her?" asked Governor Swann with an uncertain smile. During the year of Will and Elizabeth's engagement he came to like the boy enough to wish him well, and not wish him to suffer.

Although, truth to be told, Will did not look like he was suffering at the moment.

"Yes," said Will with a smile. "On the deck. Right now. I'm sorry, I have to go tell my father yet," he added without waiting for the Governor to comment on the unexpected announcement which in Will's opinion was not at all unexpected. After all they would have been married already if it was not for Beckett's interference.

Governor Swann stared after Will in stupefaction, his brows furrowed. If Will had not misunderstood anything, then _he _certainly had.

* * *

Barbossa narrowed his eyes, looking at Tia Dalma through the brig bars. "They sent _ye_ to free me? An' here I was expectin' a deckhand with a set of keys. I do appreciate the privilege," he smiled, a glint of wariness in his eyes.

Tia Dalma tilted her head to the side. "There's no privileges in fate," she said, looking at him intently. "An' no keys t' open de gates if they're meant t' stay closed," she brushed her fingertips across the lock holding Barbossa's gaze for a moment. He watched her wordlessly. "But if they're meant t' open," she closed her hand around the lock, and after a moment let go of it; the door opened, "there's no way of closin' them."

Barbossa slowly stepped out of the brig, a slow smile creeping on his lips. "But isn't it exactly the way things are in the world?" he stood in front of her, looking at her intently. "Opening what's closed only t' discover that it should never be opened?" A smile flitted across Tia Dalma's face.  
"Or closing what should always remain free?"

"Sometimes," Tia Dalma took a step toward him, "there's more freedom behind the bars than in the open ocean," she said in a low, mesmerizing voice.

"I beg to differ," said Barbossa in a hoarse whisper.

She smiled. "For ye only know de bars that trap de body," she said with a glimpse of pain in her dark eyes. "Not de bars that trap de heart," she added, sliding her open palm over her chest.

Barbossa's smile turned grimmer. "Belated discovery, milady," he said suddenly gripping her hands, and pushing her into the brig. He grabbed the keys hanging on the wall, and locked the cell.

Tia Dalma turned to him, her eyes cold and serious, although she did not move, and only watched him walk away. When he was out of sight her features softened, a small smile hovering over her lips. She took a few steps toward the bars, and leaned against them.

"Ye can only open what can be opened, an' close what can be closed," she whispered, staring into the distance with unseeing eyes. "Unless ye fear not what awaits ye if ye break through the bars of fate."

She pulled the necklace off her neck, and looked at the locket in her hand. "Do ye know why I did not come?" she said in a barely audible whisper, her voice hollow. "I was trapped long before they bound me. An' I'm still trapped now... But I'll be trapped no longer..." she lifted her hand, fingering a silver band around her fourth finger. She hissed angrily, and grimaced at the sensation as if the cold metal burned her. "I'll be free, free to be yours again," she smiled almost dreamily, tilting her head to the side. "He'll have a new bride, an' set me free. Wait, my love, for me," she closed the locket in her hand, her eyes fluttering shut. "At dawn, I'll be free."

* * *

"Elizabeth!" the Governor grasped Elizabeth's hand, and gently, but decidedly tugged her toward him. "Could you please explain to me-"

"There is nothing to explain, father, I-" she took a deep breath, and grimaced. "I decided to marry Will."

The Governor looked at her incredulously. "You do forgive me if I happen not to understand your words and actions which seem to lack at least a fair amount of coherence that would make it possible for me to-"

Elizabeth shook her head, and clutched the sleeves of her father's shirt. "He doesn't care about me," she said in a desperate, quiet voice. "He won't forgive me," she whispered, the tears welling up in her eyes, and flowing down her face so suddenly, and quickly that they looked almost unreal. The Governor stared at her in dismay. "He doesn't love me. I can't go on deceiving myself, or hoping..." she trailed off, thinking feverishly of the explanation that she could offer him without mentioning the Maelstrom of Time. "I want to forget," she said almost inaudibly, wiping the tears off her face with her hands, and taking a step away from her father.

"Elizabeth. That's hardly the way," he said firmly, and something in his voice surprised her. She looked up, blinking, the tears still lingering on her eyelashes. "You will only hurt more. If..." he exhaled heavily, averting his eyes for a moment. "If what you told me earlier was true..." Elizabeth grimaced, and pressed the palms of her hands to her eyes. "Then you should not do that," finished the Governor, placing his hand on her head, and looking at her concernedly.

She uncovered her eyes, and smiled at him, her vision blurred. "Thank you," she said quietly, and the Governor smiled faintly, and wanted to add something, but she cut him off: "But I already made my decision," she said, quickly turning around, and running out of the cabin, before he managed to stop her.

* * *

"A what?" Gibbs stared at Jack in bewilderment, but Jack ignored him, shouting the orders to the crew.

In no time everyone gathered on the main deck, and Jack took a place by the railing with the book in his hand.

"For rum's sake, Jack, what's goin' on?" asked Gibbs in a low voice, looking at him questioningly.

"We're going to have a wedding, Mister Gibbs," answered Jack in a loud voice, "A marriage ceremony, a holy union of a man an' a woman, ye must have heard 'bout it at some point of yer life," said Jack with a slight frown, his eyes scanning the deck expectantly.

Gibbs rolled his eyes. "Aye, I heard 'bout it, but I also _saw_," he lowered his voice to a meaningful whisper, "certain-"

Jack's eyes darted to him. "Mister Gibbs!" he widened his eyes at his first mate in heated disapproval.

Gibbs blinked, confused by the brief impression of actually seeing the amusement flickering across Jack's face. "I'm sorry, I just-" he started, becoming more and more baffled with every minute, but Jack narrowed his eyes at him, so he gave up on that train of thought. "Is there anything I can do?" he asked smartly after a pause.

Jack looked at him blankly. "No," he answered after a moment of consideration, looking away.

Gibbs shifted uncomfortably, not really knowing what to make out of the entire situation. "Are ye certain? Nothing I could do? Or say? At some point?" Gibbs studied Jack's face intently, trying to read his thoughts, even though he knew that the task was nigh hopeless. But his bafflement made him more blunter than usual, so he risked a couple of more suggestions until Jack decidedly cut him off:

"Mister Gibbs, I do not have anythin' to ask of ye except that ye'll keep yer mouth shut for the next few minutes," said Jack through his gritted teeth, tightening his grasp on the book when suddenly Elizabeth emerged from below the deck, followed by Will.

"Are ye su-" started Gibbs, but the look that Jack shot him made him decide against finishing his question. "Aye," he muttered, rubbing his forehead, and quickly walking away.

Jack turned his attention to the approaching couple.

Elizabeth had washed her face, and waited a few moments for her eyes to stop being red from crying so Will would not notice anything. She felt miserable, and exhausted, lost in her own conflicting thoughts, tangled memories, shattered hopes, and torn feelings. She wished she could just stop thinking for a moment. She was tired, and confused, and she would gladly just hide somewhere and cry for eternity hoping that nobody would ever find her, and that nothing would happen to her. For once she wished for stillness and nothingness to encompass her, and let her rest. She felt hollow and lost, and even more lost when she met Jack's steady, indecipherable gaze.

Will chose that moment to take her hand in his, and she looked at him, forcing a smile. It was her only consolation that at least he seemed happy. Although it was hardly fair on her side to marry him only to disappear for twenty years on the next day. Twenty years or forever... She still could not decide if she should tell him, leave him a letter, perhaps, in which she would explain everything? Or should she arrange everything in such a way that he would think her dead, and be free to do with his life what he willed, marry somebody else... He did not deserve to have a wife that did not love him. Fortunately, he would have to have such a wife for only one day, she thought grimly.

"Ah. Our dearly beloved," bellowed Jack with sour cheerfulness, causing the voices of the crew gathered around to quieten down.

Governor Swann made his way through the crowd grimacing at the smell and the state of clothes of the people he had to pass on his way to the front row. He stopped near where Jack was standing, giving him a strange look that for a moment redirected his attention from Will and Elizabeth to the Governor.

But he quickly focused at the pair again, his eyes piercing through Elizabeth, even though he tried to look indifferent. It crossed his mind that she looked as if she had been crying, something in her eyes which did not glimmer with usual vividness made his heart clench. For a second he wanted to run to her and pull her into an embrace, apologizing for that spectacle, for everything, telling her that he had forgiven her, that, in fact, he hardly even _mind_ that_ stupid_ _incident_ anymore, that he could gladly die again for that kiss, that he could die million times if only his every death was to be preceded and followed by her kisses...

He wrinkled his forehead, annoyed with his own thoughts... which were _not true!_

_Oh yes, they're true, an' ye know it._

_No, they aren't, an' do be quiet!_

_I wonder what will ye do if she says "I do" after all?_

_..._

_Have ye even thought 'bout it? That she could be as stubborn as ye, mate, an' wait for _ye_ to interrupt..._

Elizabeth and Will stood in front of Jack, who tried to remember to look at them both, and not only at Elizabeth, and only look, and not glare daggers.

The Governor watched the scene intensely, his mind racing as he tried to understand Elizabeth's motivations, and also – for the first time – looking, or rather being forced to look at Jack Sparrow; and look intently. He was no longer a random pirate whose paths somehow crossed with theirs. Suddenly, invisibly, incomprehensibly he turned into the man that... He closed his eyes with an inward sigh. That his daughter claimed she loved.

He looked at the man that he had never given much thought to except for establishing once and for always that he was a repulsive, dangerous outlaw who deserved to be hanged...

A sea of execution orders that he had been forced to sign by Beckett flashed across his mind, and he froze at the memory. An overwhelming headache hit him at the image of all those names splayed before him. He blinked, feeling as if somebody was clutching his heart with cold hands.

But suddenly the memory triggered another memory, and he recalled the scene in Beckett's office... When Beckett had tried to make Jack Sparrow give away some information threatening to kill... him. It had astounded, and puzzled him then, and it still intrigued him now. Why would Beckett consider his life to be of any value or importance to a pirate? To Jack Sparrow?

He shifted his eyes to Jack, who started reciting some strangely incoherent welcoming of "dearly beloved", holding the Bible in his hands, and the Governor noticed with curiosity that he was digging his fingernails into the cover of the book so hard that his knuckles went white.

"We haven't had the chance to meet yet."

Somebody's voice broke into the Governor's thoughts, and he looked at the man who stood next him, a bit confused. Bill Turner quietly introduced himself. The Governor shook his hand with an absent smile, quickly turning his attention back to the ceremony.

Elizabeth stood motionlessly, her eyes fixed at Jack, but her gaze was absent, and resigned, as if she was not even present, her mind wandering elsewhere.

Will stood with a small, warm smile on his face, holding Elizabeth's hand in his, and stroking it with his thumb.

Jack Sparrow (the Governor hesitated before using the word, as he would rather use some more refined term, although in this case it seemed hardly possible) _rambled_ on about holiness, and matrimonic- matrimonital- matrimoniatorital-

"Matrimonial," offered Ragetti from among the crowd, receiving a murderous look from his captain.

The Governor turned his attention from Elizabeth to the pirate, and blinked. If he was any judge of people, he would have to say that Elizabeth's claim that "he did not care" was not only unfounded, but simply ridiculous. Even though his voice were fairly calm, the man's eyes were ablaze with fury shining through his composed face, and less composed, but nonetheless proceeding speech.

What could he be so furious about?...

The vows began. Elizabeth shifted her eyes to the floorboard wondering if Jack was really going to carry the ceremony through. She had hoped he would, but now, suddenly, she was not sure she really wanted him to do it anymore...

The Governor watched Elizabeth's pale face. She seemed listless, and exhausted, but he could still hear the words of her ardent confession ringing in his ears.

"_As I mentioned at the beginning, I did expect to be at least thanked for my choice of the date for my arrival in Port Royal."_

Beckett's sarcastic words came back to the Governor, and as he quickly analyzed the entire conversation he suddenly saw it in a very different light. He looked at Jack intently, trying to read the expression on his face. _What does she see in this man?_

"I do," said Will, and Jack had to use all his will power in order not to smash the book he was holding into his face.

Elizabeth held her breath, knowing that soon it would be her turn to say those words. Jack cleared his throat, and she subconsciously looked up, and for a split second, before she averted her eyes, their eyes met.

The Governor caught that brief moment, and froze. There was something so undeniably powerful about the way they looked at each other, their facial expressions guarded, their gazes unfathomable, and yet there were flames in their eyes that could burn the world, and the world really seemed to burn for a while. He frowned at his observation, wishing he had not noticed it at all. _"Father, Commodore, I really must protest!"_

"Do you," started Jack, reciting the words without hearing them. Suddenly, he was not so sure what would her answer be. Was it possible that she... Could she really?... Was she really going to?...

The Governor looked at Elizabeth, her chest rising and falling so quickly, as if she could hardly catch her breath. Will glanced at her, and smiled reassuringly, squeezing her hand, but she neither noticed his look, nor his gesture, her eyes fixed on Jack's hands, and then she noticed how tightly he was holding the book. _He is... nervous?..._

There was a moment of silence, and she realized that it was her turn to say...

"I do," she whispered hollowly, refusing to look at Jack, her eyes fixed on the black cover of the book in his hands.

But Governor Swann did look at Jack, and watched how, at Elizabeth's answer, his face drained of all color.

Jack stared at Elizabeth for a moment, a shadow of frustration, of anger, of desperation flashing across his face, fast and violent like a thunder, but he quickly suppressed it, and collected himself.

_Well-deserved. For bein' the fool that ye are!..._

"If any person here," he started hoarsely after a pause, his face hardening, "can show cause why these two... people shouldn't be joined in holy matrimony, speak now or forever hold yer peace."

"_I love him so much I can't breathe..." _The Governor took a deep breath. "I...," his voice resounded in the perfect silence, all eyes darting to him. "I have an objection."

Jack stared at the Governor with wide eyes. So did Will. And Elizabeth. And everybody else.

"That's hardly the circumstances I would imagine appropriate for my daughter's wedding," the Governor explained rather lamely, although he hoped that perhaps the lameness of his explanation was visible only to him. "In the middle of the ocean, on the ship," he added, and Jack half-pouted on that remark, although it was probably a very fortunate statement, because it prevented him from actually hugging the Governor.

"Well, that's... sad," said Jack with a small, pretendedly compassionate smile, glaring daggers at Elizabeth. _She said "I do", she bloody said "I do"!! _"I guess that'd be it, then."He loudly shut the book, and threw it at Gibbs, who caught it in mid-flight. "Back to yer stations!" bellowed Jack, and after a brief moment of confusion, everybody scurried off to continue their work around the ship.

Will blinked, not quite knowing what had just happened. Elizabeth was still looking at her father, who looked at her unsmilingly, almost sadly.

Jack hastily walked away, not even noticing Barbossa who had just emerged from below the deck, and was questioning one of the crew members as to what was going on.

_She said "I do", she said "I do". She. Bloody. Said. "I. Do." Bloody... Pirate!..._

"Land ho!"

Jack stopped in the middle of the stairs, and turned around, annoyed. "Bloody Shipwreck Cove," he muttered under his breath. "More bloody pirates, bloody hell."


	31. Chapter 31

A/N: _**Thank you so much for all the beautiful reviews!**_

Spoiler: In reply to a couple of comments... Yes, I know that dawn is taking a long time to come lol But there are just certain things that have to happen before MOT, so (un)fortunately the dawn won't come for at least two more chapters yet:)

Warning: Character's death. (No, not Will's. I'm sorry;)

Disclaimer: PotC belong to Disney.

**Chapter 31**

"I ain't see the _Empress_." Ragetti was the first to pose the question as to the curious absence or rather disappearance of the Sao Feng's ship, which had passed unnoticed due to the marriage commotion.

"Must've fallen behind," answered Gibbs, squinting into the distance. "We're goin' with full speed. No ship can outrun the _Pearl_, aye?" he smiled, and shouted further orders to the crew.

Bill Turner smiled faintly at the remark, but then shifted his eyes to Will who stood by the railing staring out at the sea with a frown on his face. Slowly, Bootstrap made his way toward his son.

Elizabeth had gone below having exchanged only a silent, blank look with her father, and for some reason it bothered Will that she had not tried to convince him that despite the raw circumstances, the lack of proper clothes, the minister, and whatever else the Governor might have considered important, she wanted them to get married. Because she did, didn't she? After all, it was _her_ idea to get married right now on the _Pearl_.

Bill approached Will, and placed his hand on his son's shoulder. "Don't worry," he said in a low, reassuring voice. "Maybe Shipwreck Cove will be a better place. There certainly be better possibilities to prepare a proper ceremony."

Will snorted slightly, and shook his head. "Shipwreck Cove?" he turned his head, and looked at his father with a sad smile. "Pirates' quarters? I rather doubt Elizabeth's father will think of the wedding there any better than of the wedding aboard a ship," he said grimly, turning away from the sea, and catching a glimpse of Jack leaving the helm to Gibbs, and heading below the deck.

* * *

He strode across the deck, across the fire, across the flying splinters of wood, trying to get rid of the thoughts that were nagging and taunting him for the past few days since he had overheard a conversation between the members of the crew. One of the soldiers was recounting something that he had seen... the executions that he had witnessed... the images so horrid and vivid that they had carved themselves into his mind forever. He had seen not only men, but women and children shackled, bound, and led to the gallows, their lives taken from them with habitual nonchalance, with indifference that had made – and was still making – his heart clench.

James Norrington had caught his words, leaned against the cold, damp wood, and listened. The young soldier had described pain in awkward words, his story often disrupted by sharp intakes of breath. He had seen young children executed in front of their mothers, he had heard screams of heart-wrenching despair, of agony, as well as the grave, ghastly silence of those who had had enough strength to face death with imperishable pride. He had seen the eyes of the dead left open, because nobody cared to close their eyes, nobody cared to allow their souls rest in peace.

He closed his eyes for a moment, and frowned.

Even now, after several days he could still recall every word the soldier had uttered, or rather every image that his own mind created under the influence of the man's words.

He could not sleep, could hardly concentrate on anything else but his thoughts, the disturbing chaos in his mind, _of_ his mind... of his soul. What had he done? What was he doing...

He glanced around the deck, heading below the deck of the ship that the_ Flying Dutchman _under his command had just attacked.

"Where is your captain?" he asked in a firm, steady voice, looking intently at one of the captured men that was being held by two EITC soldiers.

"Below," the man hissed in response, looking at him with so much hatred that he felt cold wave of guilt washing over him.

Wordlessly, with a stony face he directed his steps below. Why would he even feel guilty? He had no reason to feel guilty. Not towards them. Pirates, murderers, vicious-

He stopped in the middle of the stairs, gripping the rail. Were those children and their mothers that had been executed murderous pirates as well?

He slowly walked down the stairs. Did it even matter?... It was wrong. Altogether, thoroughly, overwhelmingly wrong, and he did not even know it, or had to think about it. He _felt_ it. He felt it every time he gave the order to attack, every time he saw a document with the scarlet seal, every time he talked with that man whose cold eyes made him doubt that God had really given a soul to every man.

"Help! Help!" a muffled, desperate voice shook him out of his reverie, and a pair of dark hands caught the lapels of his coat. He stared at the man, too surprised to even push him away. "The captain! The captain! Help!"

Before he even noticed, two soldiers dragged the desperate crew member away. He blinked once, before hastily walking into the direction in which the man had pointed.

He stopped at the bottom of the stairs, and looked around the devastated cabin. From the size, and the interiors it seemed to be the captain's cabin; the smell of gun powder hovered in the air blended with a sweetish, exotic scent that he could not identify.

Glancing at the hole in the side of the ship, he walked toward where he heard a rustling noise coming from. His mouth twitched at the sight of the man impaled to a piece of wood. He called for assistance, even though he could almost see death in the man's eyes already.

"Calypso..." whispered the captain of the _Empress_, his voice low, and husky from effort.

James wrinkled his forehead, leaning down. The long piece of wood that had pierced through the man's chest glistened with blood. There was no chance...

"Your crew will come to no harm," he said quietly, on an impulse, half-heartedly.

Sao Feng blinked, and looked at him with unseeing eyes. "They must free Calypso," he whispered, swallowed, and grimaced at the strange liquid that flowed down his throat when he tried to speak.

James looked over his shoulder, and once again called for somebody to help, but nobody seemed to hear him. He looked back at the man, his words suddenly registering in his mind.

"Is somebody trapped here yet?" he asked, glancing around.

Sao Feng gasped, reaching under his shirt. With all the strength that he had left, he pulled a necklace off his neck, and pressed it blindly into James' chest.

James blinked, automatically taking the object from the man's hand. He opened his mouth to ask a question, but before he managed to do so, Sao Feng grabbed him by the sleeve, his shining eyes piercing into his face. "The Brethren has to free her, or there will be no..." he trailed off, and James stiffened involuntarily at the sight of blood dripping down from the captain's mouth.

"Will be no...?" he echoed, knowing that the only thing he could do now was listen. There was no chance for the man to survive.

Sao Feng's head lulled backwards, and he slowly closed his eyes. "Piece of Eight..." he licked his blood-stained lips. "She must... free... She... on the _Black Pearl_..." James' eyes shot to his. "This is the only," Sao Feng inhaled deeply, as if he could not catch his breath. "The sea... free... or there will be no..." he winced, and his hand let go of James' sleeve. He went still.

James stared at him for a moment, the loud noise of footsteps coming from the stairs gradually destroying a strange moment of silence. Slowly, he straightened up, the strange necklace clasped in his hand, his mind hazy.

"Admiral?" one of the soldiers addressed him. He shifted his eyes from his hand, to the soldier. "What do we do, Sir?"

James looked at him blankly. "I wish to speak with his crew," he replied grimly after a pause, lost in thought.

* * *

Jack pushed his cabin's door open, and stormed inside, slamming the door shut behind him. For once, standing at the helm was not helping. He could not concentrate, he could not stop hearing her voice in his head; "I do" reverberating in his mind with incessant mercilessness.

He should not care, really. Why did he care? If he did. Which he of course didn't! And what did he even expect? He was certain that she was lying, but maybe it was only his blind insistence; blind, foolish hope. Perhaps she had not lied when she had said that his forgiveness was her only objective... perhaps... But then again she had seemed hurt when he had suggested that he would not have cared whether she married the whelp or not... Not to mention the way she had kissed him... the way she had let him kiss her...

He scolded himself inwardly. This kind of reasoning would lead him nowhere. Except back to the Locker perhaps, he thought darkly with a snort.

Shaking his coat off his shoulders, and throwing his hat on his desk he headed for his side cabin thinking that an hour of sleep before they reached Shipwreck Cove would do him some good. Maybe. As if anything-

He opened the door, and froze.

Elizabeth was sitting on the edge of the bed, and her eyes darted to his when he opened the door.

"What are ye doin' here?" he asked sharply, telling himself three times that the wave of heat that had washed over him at the sight of her was caused exclusively by the fact that he was surprised to see her. _Bugger. _In his cabin. _Bugger bugger._ On his bed. _Buggerbuggerbuggerbugger_

A memory of a hallucination (?...) flashed through his mind, and he suddenly remembered that she had claimed to have had the same dreams... His eyes scanned the room briefly, and when they met hers again he wondered if the same thought had crossed her mind as well.

A memory of a hallucination... there was something... odd about that... And there was certainly something more than odd about two people having the same... hallucinations.

"I wanted to talk to you," said Elizabeth quietly, slowly getting up, and walking toward him.

He snorted, and hastily turned around walking back to the main cabin. "But _I _don't want to talk to _you_," he frowned, busying himself with the maps on his desk, and noticing the black-covered book on the left-hand side of the table.

"Mr. Gibbs brought back your Bible," said Elizabeth almost blankly with only a hint of irony in her voice. Unless he had only imagined- "A very interesting version," continued Elizabeth, and Jack rolled his eyes. "I never knew there were passages devoted to Scottish embroidery in the Bible."

He swirled around, shooting her the coldest look he could muster. "It's the book of wisdom. Everything's there," he snapped. "What do ye want?" he narrowed his eyes at her, ignoring her conciliatorily humorous tone, and Elizabeth cringed, a faint shadow of forced humor gone from her face. She wondered if he finally started hating her for good. Now that she was not sure anymore if she wanted him too... As selfish as it was...

She hoped that he would at least let her explain... She hoped that he would kiss her one last time... Even though it was foolish to think that she would be able to call, to believe any of his kisses last. "I know that you must be thinking me evil, or mad, or both now," she said in a low voice, looking at him with her eyes still burning from dried tears.

He huffed, leaning slightly against his desk, one of the scars on his chest showing through the opening in his shirt, and she bit her lip at the memory of how that scar felt under her fingertips...

"Now?" he questioned with a sneer, his eyes roaming all over her face as if he was looking for something there.

Elizabeth's mouth twitched, and she wrapped her arms around herself protectively.

"_Take me, keep me, don't let me go, don't let me go, Jack." _He blinked, trying to retain the sneer on his face. _She almost married the whelp – twice!, she lied to ye, she betrayed ye, she killed ye. Is there _anythin'_ she could possibly do to make ye stop wishin' t' pull her into yer arms an' _never_ let go?... Maybe if she roasted ye an' ate ye, eh?_

Elizabeth took a deep breath, regretting that she had come here at all. She should have just avoided him until dawn. That would have been the best course of action. "I may assure you that I had my reasons-"

"I don't care 'bout yer reasons, Elizabeth," he cut her off, his voice artificially careless. Elizabeth stared at him wide-eyed, gritting her teeth at his choice of the name. "An' I don't want to talk to ye, with ye, or 'bout ye," he said with a grimace, and she felt cold shivers running up her spine. "An' I'd appreciate if ye could be as kind as to leave me cabin," he added after a pause, holding her gaze, and waving his hand in the general direction of the door.

She looked at him for a moment in silence, the dull pain caused by his words not ebbing, but strengthening. "Liar!" she said at last, at loss for a better insult, irritated, and at the same time helpless, because she did not want to leave. She wanted to touch him, to kiss him, to tell him...

"Murderer!" he sneered childishly, startling her, the word simultaneously burning and freezing her heart. She could not guess from the look in his eyes if he was being serious, or merely mean.

"Go ahead. Tell me what you really think of me. If that makes you feel better," she said through her gritted teeth, quickly blinking back the tears.

"If that makes me feel better?" He widened his eyes at her, pushing himself away from his desk. "Do ye want to know what would make me feel better?" He backed her against the side cabin's door, which opened when she bumped against it after having taken a few steps backwards.

"What?" she asked with pretended haughtiness, thrusting up her chin, and looking him straight in the eye. It could never hurt to fake bravery, could it?...

He sneered menacingly, and for a moment she could almost feel a gust of fear on her skin, even though she knew he would not hurt her. _Not lethally at least_, she thought wryly, trying to keep the tears from rolling down her cheeks. She took a few more steps backwards, unexpectedly tripping, and falling onto the bed behind her. She made to stand up, but suddenly her hands were pinned to the bed on either side of her head, and she found her eyes fixed on the darkly flickering orbs above her.

He stared down at her with a hard expression on his face, shadows of anger and annoyance passing repeatedly across his face, although paradoxically, the longer he looked at her like that, the less afraid she was. "I could do _everything_ to you," he said at last in a steely voice, inching his face to hers. "_Anything_ I'd want to."

She looked at him for a moment, and then almost involuntarily laughed, the tears flowing sideways from the corners of her eyes. He blinked. "That's a fine threat, Captain Sparrow, considering that I hardly dreamt of anything else, as of late," she said unsmilingly, turning her head to the side, and glancing out of the window. It must have been around noon. Her last noon before-

He stared at her nonplussed. "Ye've a peculiar way of showin' yer affection, then," he muttered, caught off guard by her reply, and trying to retain the steeliness in his voice, fighting the scent of her hair that had been haunting him in hisdreams, and now began enveloping him in a dangerously tangible reality.

Elizabeth darted her eyes back to him. "What makes you think I have any affection to show?" she asked evenly, and he squinted. He could not read her immediately, _as of late_, and the fact started to annoy him.

"Ah, I see. Ye just kiss people whenever ye feel like it," he said, tightening his grasp on her wrist, when she tried to yank them free. It crossed his mind how _appropriate_ it would be to shackle her to his bed as punishment... and then kiss her, kiss every inch of that treacherous body of hers, until she would go mad from pleasure... maybe she would even die from pleasure?... _That_ would surely count as revenge, wouldn't it?

"As far as I remember last time _you_ were the one kissing _me_," she said, irritation slowly trumping exhaustion.

"An' ye were kickin' an' screamin' an' shoutin' at me to let ye go, aye?" he said, tilting his head to the side, his breath ghosting over her skin.

She trembled, and swallowed. "Inwardly," she whispered, thinking it a fairly good thing to say, until she saw the mischievous smile on his face.

"Scream at me inwardly all ye wish, luv," he said, amused, capturing her lips in a bruising kiss.

She moaned quietly, and he experimentally let go of her wrists, grinning _inwardly_, when she immediately flung her arms around him, pulling him closer. He broke the kiss, and she opened her eyes. He was glaring at her.

"Ye said 'I do'", he breathed, his hands suddenly closing around her throat.

"And you didn't stop me," she retorted, keeping her hands laced behind his neck. "You never stop me. It was... my second wedding... and neither was... interrupted by you," she added in a low voice, breathing raggedly, her eyes glimmering.

Jack knitted his eyebrows, and looked at her intently, her hands warm on his neck, and he wondered whether his hands felt warm against her neck too. "Stop ye?" leaning down, he brushed his lips along her jawline. "It'd be like... trying to stop the sea," he muttered, more to himself than to her, dragging his lips across the side of her face.

"Jack..." she turned her head to meet his lips with hers.

He looked at her through half-lidded eyes, before kissing her tenderly, softly, gently. They kissed for a longer while in silence interlaced only with the tranquil humming of the waves brushing against the hull.

Suddenly, Jack broke the kiss, and looked at Elizabeth intently, struck by an idea. "I did stop ye. The Bible was fake," he said with a twitch of his nose.

Elizabeth giggled. "Took you a long time to remember about that," she said, looking up at him with a smile, which slowly turned from an amused to a pensive one. She ran her fingers through his dreadlocks, deliberately causing the trinkets to jingle. "I used to draw pictures of you, you know," she whispered, drawing her fingertips across his face, outlining his cheekbones with both hands, and brushing her thumbs along his lips.

He blinked, his heartbeat quickening. "Pictures of me?" he asked after a pause subconsciously leaning into her hand, thinking about his own pictures of her.

It felt so surreal to just be with her like that. It felt so surreal that she just wanted to be with him like this, and it frightened him how much he was certain that he had to do something to make her stay, or else there would be not enough rum, and not enough seas in the world to keep his heart from withering.

He had to make sure she would not disappear like in that hallucination that he had been having...

"Yes," she cupped his cheek. "When I was little. I had those books, but there were no pictures in them, so I drew my own," she shifted rubbing her boots against each other, trying to shake them off her feet.

Jack tilted his head to the side and kissed her palm. "Why would ye do that?" he asked with a half-smile, drawing back.

"I wanted to marry you," she blurted out without thinking, and froze.

He looked at her, smirking. "Did ye now?" _Did ye now, Lizzie Sparrow? _He slid off the bed, and took her boots off her feet.

"Well, I was eight, then," she said defensively, trembling at the touch of his hands on her skin, snuggling her foot into his hand.

He glided his hands over her feet almost thoughtfully, before straightening up, and sitting on the bed again. She moved a little further into the bed, her legs hanging over the edge of the bed. They looked at each other without saying anything, their questions drowned in silence, seemingly unimportant... or maybe just already answered...

Ever so slowly, Elizabeth scooted toward Jack, and wordlessly took his hand in hers. He watched her as she started examining his rings, one by one, his fingers, running her fingertips across his palm, the back of his hand, his wrist. He exhaled sharply, and she glanced up at him, pulling his hand, and placing it over her heart that raced madly under the thin fabric of her shirt. She kept her eyes on his hand, her head slightly bent, her hair curtaining her face.

"I'm sorry," she said in a barely audible whisper. "And I'm not going to enumerate all the things that I'm sorry for," she added with a small frown, still not looking up at him. "Nor why I did what I did," she stared at her hand on his. "Why I've done all the things that I've done. I'm too tired to explain all of that right now," she said quietly. "You know my regrets," she said after a pause, trying to push the grim thoughts away. "I know that you know, so don't even think about taunting me about any of that again," she said with a hint of pretendedly threatening irritation in her voice. "And-"

He snatched his hand out of her grasp, and pulled her toward him. "An' what if I _want_ to taunt ye?", he asked in a low voice, tangling his fingers in her hair. She licked her lips, and his eyes flickered to her mouth. "What if I _want _to torture ye like ye torture me?"

Elizabeth's eyes widened. "I'm not torturing you," she protested quietly, leaning closer.

He snorted under his breath, and she suddenly noticed that his eyes were not brown anymore, but black like the darkest of nights. "Lizzie, Lizzie," he gave her his lop-sided smile, "ye've no idea," and kissed her greedily.

* * *

James stood by the railing of the _Empress _looking pensively at the grim silhouette of the _Flying Dutchman _that looked even more ghastly against the blue, sunlit sky. He fingered the necklace in his hand, knitting his eyebrows together, and mulling over every line of the brief conversation that he had just had with Sao Feng's crew; pondering each line of the endless conversations that he had had with himself over the past few days...

...Pondering his choices...

There was only so much he could do... Or was it just an easier approach? Filtering his possibilities through the circumstances, and not his own convictions?...

He knew what he was supposed to do. He knew what he was expected to do. Expected... By whom? By those people with rights ascribed to them due to some incomprehensible turns of history that located them in certain places, in certain times, with certain opportunities... Would he be whom he was if he was born somewhere else... Would it be his fault if he was different...

Was it his fault that he was whom he was?

Was it really unchangeable...

Was he even himself at the moment?...

He squinted into the distance, and sighed. He could not just stand here pondering everything forever. There was no time. There never was enough time for anything.

Once, when he had turned around a girl had fallen into the ocean, and should God and fortune had decided differently she might have not survived the fall.

And now it was like that again... He could just turn around, and go back to the _Flying Dutchman_, imprison Sao Feng's crew, ensure the location of Shipwreck Cove, signal Beckett, and then, with the well-prepared fleet attack the place, ignite the battle, win the war...

There was no chance for losing this war. A small, bitter smile flitted across his face. Was it regret sifting through his thoughts? Would he find it regrettable to win?...

Would it even be a victory... More people killed-

More pirates killed.

He wrinkled his forehead. It was his duty, it was the right thing to do... It was... But seemed to be no longer. Somewhere in between sleepless, cold nights, and the overheard stories of women and children being sent to the gallows he had lost the sense, the intuition to judge what was right...

Once, he had all the answers, even without posing any questions, but now he had questions that failed to be followed by any answers.

"Sir?" Lieutenant Gillette approached him with a hesitant look on his face. James turned around. "Orders?" he asked uncertainly. They have been waiting for some time for the Admiral's orders already, and the _Flying Dutchman'_s crew was growing impatient, not knowing what to do with the captured pirates, not knowing where they were headed next.

James looked at him blankly.

...There was no chance pirates would survive, there was no chance at all... And perhaps it was even what he had wished for... once... still... perhaps...

"Perhaps," he whispered with a sigh.

"Sir?" Gillette leaned a bit forward, not really catching the words spoken, if there were any.

James took a deep breath, squeezing the object in his hand.

The war did not matter now. What mattered was that the Governor and Elizabeth, as he had learned from Sao Feng's first mate, were aboard the _Black Pearl_, and the _Black Pearl_ was sailing to the place where the pirates gathering was going to be, and if the place was to be attacked by EITC, there was no chance that anybody would survive. He would have no means of getting them out of there...

...alive.

"Lieutenant Gillette," James spoke at last in a loud voice, and so suddenly that the soldier cringed. "I am leaving the _Flying Dutchman _in your command," he said looking at the man steadily. "You will," he continued, despite Gillette's apparent wish to interrupt him at that point, "deliver a message from me. You will inform Lord Beckett that I stayed on the _Empress _in an effort to ensure the location of the Brethren meeting, and I shall return with the ship upon acquiring the aforementioned information. Is that clear?"

Lieutenant Gillette looked confused to say the least. "Yes, but Sir... what about the pirate crew?"

James smiled briefly, clasping his hands behind his back, the piece of eight digging into the skin of the palm of his hand.

"I do believe that acquiring the information from those people require their presence."

"Yes," Gillette nodded hesitatingly. "But I can't see how-"

"You will return with our crew to the _Flying Dutchman_.I will stay here alone, it is the only way to gain their trust," he said in a low, firm voice.

Lieutenant Gillette blinked, the understanding at last dawning on him... Or at least he had a vague impression that he understood the Commodore's reasoning and the mechanics of his scheme. "Yes, Sir," he said resolutely. "But are you certain that it would not have been better if the _Flying Dutchman _followed this ship instead of-"

"Lieutenant," James cut him off. "Are my orders unclear?" he asked, not sure if what he was doing was clear even to himself.

"Yes, Sir. I mean no, Sir, they are clear," answered Gillette hastily, although he still seemed rather baffled. "They are," he said, trying to decide if he should mention that Lord Beckett would not perhaps be too pleased to lose the knowledge of the position of the ship that now belonged to EITC. However, Admiral Norrington certainly knew what he was doing, and he felt reluctant to question his orders, even though he doubted that it was not quite risky for a Navy soldier to stay on the enemy's ship, and among the enemy's crew without his own crew to ensure the order... But once again he told himself, that it was not his place to voice his doubts, so he saluted, and walked off to do what he had been told.

* * *

Now... that was almost as good as all those hallucinations that he had been having, thought Jack with a small, inward smirk when Elizabeth ordered him to take his boots off, and then grabbed him by the shirt, and pushed him onto his back, his head conveniently colliding with a pillow.

"Easy, darlin', ye don't want to-"

She smiled down at him, and slanted her mouth across his, for once succeeding in cutting him off in the middle of the sentence. Not that he minded, really. Unhurriedly, he draped his arms around her as she positioned herself on top of him, kissing him ardently. The only thing that he really did mind at the moment were all those superfluous clothes that they were wearing. It was the only detail that seemed to differentiate the reality form his hallucinations. But of course it was nothing that could not be remedied...

He smirked at his thoughts, pressing her closer to him, and kissing her fervently, thoroughly, _torturing _her lips as much as he could.

When they broke apart gasping for air, Elizabeth leaned her cheek on his chest, and went so still that for a moment he thought that she fell asleep. But as soon as he felt her hand idly twirling his dreadlocks around her fingers he knew that she was not asleep. He wrapped his arms tightly around her, and she smiled, when he began stroking her hair.

"I could stay like this forever," she whispered, and Jack's eyes snapped open, but he did not say anything, fighting a smile.

Elizabeth snuggled her face into his chest, and he slid his fingers into her hair, suddenly aware of the weirdness of the entire situation. Was she really here, in his arms? He tightened his embrace even more just to make sure that it was real, that she was real, that it was not just another dream...

Strange dreams, they were... Strange hallucinations. And she had said that she had had the same dreams, hadn't she? That was even stranger...

But he did not feel like questioning her about that right now. Right now he just wanted to...

_Stay like this forever_, he thought, amused. He closed his eyes, and for some time just listened to her calm breathing, her lips lightly touching his skin in the opening of his shirt, her breath warm against his skin. He sifted her hair through his fingers, entangling his hand into her sunlit, sunburned tresses.

"Jack... tell me what it was like," whispered Elizabeth after a longer moment of silence, her eyes closed, her ear over his heart, as she tried to commit to her memory the way in which his heart was beating... She thought she would recognize his heartbeat among millions of others...

Jack opened his eyes with a sigh. "What it was like?" he echoed hoarsely, wrinkling his forehead.

"The Locker..." He more felt the word as she breathed it into his skin than actually heard her say it.

He did not answer immediately, but she waited patiently; her question partly caused by sincere worry and guilt, partly by curiosity, a sudden thought that perhaps Maelstrom of Time was similar to the Locker, and therefore-

"Full of you."

His answer broke into her thoughts, and she blinked, her eyelashes brushing against his skin. She turned her head, propped it on the back of her hand, and looked up at him curiously. He narrowed his eyes, smiling slightly, a half-amused, half-thoughtful smile.

"What do you mean?" Elizabeth bit her lip, and tilted her head to the side, leaning it against his shoulder, her bare foot sliding up and down his shin.

"Jack, we're-" Gibbs stormed into the cabin considering the arrival at the Cove important enough to wake the captain up. He had knocked, but neglected to wait for an answer, which was definitely something that he very soon found very regrettable... "I-I-I'm sorry," he stammered, wide-eyed, and hastily turned around, almost colliding with the door frame on his way out.

Jack lifted his head, and looked at Gibbs over Elizabeth's shoulder. "Won't leave a man alone even for one bloody minute," Jack rolled his eyes, shifting his gaze to Elizabeth who looked slightly aghast, suddenly aware of the fact that she was lying _on _Jack. Barefooted. Which was better than if she was completely _bare_, but still it was something that she would rather not have anybody to see.

"He won't say a word," whispered Jack into her ear, smiling roguishly, and placing a few kisses on her neck before helping her and himself up.

They slid to the edge of the bed, reaching for their boots, and tugging them on. Before Elizabeth put on hers, Jack caught her foot, lifted it, and brushed his lips across it.

"Are we going to make a rule out of it?" asked Elizabeth in a low voice, laughing under her breath.

"More a code than a rule," answered Jack in a conspirational tone.

"A code?" Elizabeth narrowed her eyes, leaning toward him with a smile.

"Aye. A watchword," he smiled, his eyes glimmering enigmatically like on that island when he bewitched her with the tales about adventures and freedom. "If we ever needed one, that would be it," he helped her to stand up, and they went to the main cabin, where Gibbs was waiting for them, rubbing his forehead, and looking very uncomfortable.

"Ye should really know better than to interrupt people practicin', mate" said Jack sternly, shooting Gibbs mock angry look.

Gibbs was about to nod, but then hesitated. "Practicin'?"

Elizabeth raised her eyebrows.

"Aye," Jack squinted. "What with some annoyin' nose-breakers discoverin' that they've been lied to, an' all that. Better to keep up appearances, aye?" Jack looked at Gibbs intensely, until after a moment of silence, Gibbs smiled broadly, suddenly remembering what Jack had told Sao Feng about Elizabeth.

"Aye, 'course," he said, stifling a chuckle.

Elizabeth blinked, and narrowed her eyes at Jack, ready to remark that there was no way she was going to pretend in Shipwreck Cove that she was his concubine, but he spoke again, cutting her off:

"Now, Mister Gibbs. Tell us if this looks convincing," said Jack in an utterly serious tone of voice, and before Gibbs had the time to ask what 'this' was referring to, Jack pulled Elizabeth into an embrace, and kissed her passionately.

Gibbs' eyes widened even more, if that was even possible...

Jack broke the kiss, and Elizabeth opened her eyes, staring up at him half-dumbfounded, half-aghast. Jack looked at Gibbs expectantly.

"Aye," muttered Gibbs, slowly recovering. "This... was... _very_ convincing."

"Good," said Jack with a complacent smile. "As non-covetable as it is, it seems our covey has to get ready to meet the Cove's coven, aye?"

Gibbs ran his hand across his face. "Aye, we made port," he said hoping that at least he had gotten the question right, as all the other recent happenings were most certainly beyond his comprehension abilities.


	32. Chapter 32

A/N: _**Thank you so much for all the amazing reviews! **_**:)**

Disclaimer: I don't own Jack, Elizabeth, etc.

**Chapter 32**

"You're not serious," said Elizabeth disbelievingly, as soon as Gibbs closed the door behind him after bringing what Jack had asked him bring.

"I'm not only serious, luv," answered Jack with a barely perceptible smile flickering across his face. "In fact, I'm deadly serious," he picked up a carmine silk dress that Elizabeth had thrown on his desk, and threw it back at her.

She caught it, and squinted. "I thought you had no dress in your cabin," she said, biting her lip to keep from smiling.

He narrowed his eyes, and took a few steps toward her. "I didn't. This one is from the hold, must've been a part of the loot from one plunder of another. Hard to keep track of all the assets if ye happen to have too many," he cupped her face, and pressed his lips to hers. It was almost scary how easy it became. And she was not even trying to push him away. _It's bound to lead to something terrible, no doubt about that_, he thought half-seriously.

"My father won't like this idea one bit," she whispered without fully taking her lips off his. She wanted to ask him if he would finally forgive her... But she did not want to ruin the moment by asking superfluous questions.

Jack smiled. "I'm sure you can convince him of the advisable advisability of such a course of action."

She brushed her lips against his a few times before kissing him again. He wrapped his arms around her in a slow, deliberate gesture. "I'll try," she breathed, slowly opening her eyes, and placing her hands on his shoulders for support.

He smiled, and slowly slid his hands up her back, pulling her closer. "Now. Where were we before we've been so rudely interrupted?" He leaned down, and started nuzzling her neck.

"On the bed," replied Elizabeth promptly, closing her eyes, and wrapping her arms around him.

Jack chuckled into her skin. "Technically-"

"Shhh," Elizabeth hushed him softly. "Don't talk. We're already docked, and we'll have to go soon, and..." He looked up at her expectantly, and she smirked. "And I'd rather spend the remaining time kissing than ta-"

She gasped when their lips collided as he slanted his mouth across hers with a smile, and held her close, kissing her feverishly, trying to make the moment as real as possible, trying to show her that she could never, that she should never try running away from him again, because he would always reach her, find her, catch her.

And never let go.

* * *

"Is Elizabeth below?" asked Will, approaching Gibbs who was just telling the Governor what Shipwreck Cove was.

Caught off guard, Gibbs narrowed his eyes giving him a small nod, and opened his mouth as if to say something, but then shook his head rather violently, stating firmly: "No."

Will eyed him suspiciously, but said nothing, and walked off heading toward the stairs. Gibbs scratched his forehead with a grimace. He looked back at the Governor, but before he had the time to continue what he had been saying, another voice, decidedly angrier than the previous one interrupted him.

"Is Jack below?"

Gibbs rolled his eyes. "Nothing can be easier than goin' an' checkin' for yerself," he said with a forced half-smile, only a moment after having said this realizing that the man who had asked the question should not be where he was at all.

Barbossa squinted, and muttering something under his breath, hastily walked away leaving Gibbs with a puzzled expression on his face, and the question why he was out of the brig regrettably unanswered.

* * *

"We should be going..." mumbled Jack, burying his face into Elizabeth's hair, and inhaling deeply.

She smiled, and nestled her head into his chest with a sigh. "What if we didn't? We could just lock the door, and tell them _all_ to go to _hell_..." she started in a firm, amused voice, which gradually faltered. "Don't let anybody in... Just stay like that..."

He drew back, and propped her chin with his hand. "But this is exactly what we're goin' to do, Lizzie," he brought his face very close to hers, their lips almost touching. "In order to keep our wee scheme up, we'll have to take _one _room in the Cove, an' beware whoever would dare to interrupt-"

"Captain Sparrow," Elizabeth threw the dress on Jack's desk again, and put her hand over his, pushing it off her chin. "You surely do not suggest anything as improper as your suggestions seem to suggest," said Elizabeth with mock indignation, and then giggled at her own words.

Jack looked at her with exaggerated amazement, but also with a more subtle, but flaring delight at her appearance, at the way she looked right now: cheerful, gleeful, carefree, and - he hardly dared to think... – happy?... Not to mention his delight at the style of her utterance.

"'Course not! However," he grabbed her hand, and tugged her toward him, closing her in an embrace, and a frightening thought crossed his mind that nothing could compare to the thrilling sensation caused by having her closed in his arms, not even a storm, not a sea of rum... "If I may suggest something, let me tell ye that I wouldn't mind in the slightest any suggestions that ye might have once we'll be locked in that room, together," he breathed, "door closed," he narrowed his eyes, "curtains drawn," and then widened them at her, "lights doused-"

"Why would the lights be doused?" cut in Elizabeth matter-of-factly, narrowing her eyes to conceal a smile, her hands involuntarily travelling to his face. Why couldn't it always be like that? Why it had never been like that before? And now it hardly mattered anymore... She bit her lip, pushing the grim thoughts away.

"Well," he leaned down, and kissed the corner of her mouth, pressing her closer to him, and sneaking his hands under her shirt, splaying his palms over her back. "As far as I'm concerned we can leave all the lights, or..." he glanced up at her, and smiled at her facial expression, something between nervousness and excitement written on her face, her eyes closed, her lips trembling when he planted a feather-light kiss on them. "Or have a hundred candles scattered around the room."

Elizabeth opened her eyes. "I think your imagination is running away with you, Jack" she said, looking at him intensely, suddenly knowing what she wanted to do with her last night... and trying not to think whether her disappearance would hurt him more if they- Her breath caught at the idea. But she was determined not to let him know what she was thinking, not until they would be alone, with no interruptions in sight.

He looked at her for a moment searchingly, a smile playing about his lips. "I'd rather say..." he kissed her, and she quickly kissed him back before he pulled away, "with _us_," he finished with an impish smile.

"I think we won't be able to run too far, if we'll carry on with your plan," she said quietly, cupping his face in her hands. "I'm not sure what my father will do when I will start hanging on your arm, and kissing you in public." Jack smiled roguishly. "If that's really what a concubine is supposed to be doing," she added, suddenly suspicious.

Jack cleared his throat. "'Course it is," he said, widening his eyes at her in mock shock. "Unless ye don't want to look convincing."

She narrowed her eyes, resting her forehead against his. "And just how far would you like me to go to _look convincing_?" she asked, tilting her head to the side, and gently kissing his mouth, savouring the intoxicating taste of his lips, reveling in the feeling of being so close to him, so near...

Jack grinned. "As far as it will be necessary, luv," he whispered, his eyes roaming over her face, his hands warm on her bare skin, slowly sliding up and down her back.

Elizabeth wanted to answer, but somehow the words drowned in a sudden feeling of bliss when his hands travelled to her waist, and then up and up and-

"Open the bloody door!!"

Jack rolled his eyes, resting his forehead on Elizabeth's shoulder with a groan. "I bloody shot him," he whispered in a childishly complaining tone of voice.

Elizabeth stifled a chuckle. "Well, it seems that once is not enough," she replied smilingly, but her smile disappeared when another voice joined Barbossa's.

"Open the door, Jack."

Jack pulled Elizabeth roughly against him "Yer beloved," he whispered into her ear, pressing his hands harder to her skin.

She sharply turned her head. "I said no taunting," she whispered through her gritted teeth, glaring at him. He smirked.

"Jack!" Will's voice sounded again.

Jack looked at Elizabeth searchingly, and only after a moment she realized that he was trying to see what effect, if any, Will's voice had on her. He inched his lips to hers, and said in a low, satin voice: "An' I said no _him_."

Elizabeth blinked.

"We've some things to discuss," Barbossa's tone was growing impatient.

"And why is that?" Elizabeth hissed through her teeth, upset, but shivering under Jack's touch nonetheless.

He looked at her for a moment, amused. "I'm not in the mood for confessions, 'Lizbeth," he whispered, brushing his lips against hers. She looked at him through half-lidded eyes.

"Maybe he's not there?" said Will doubtfully. Barbossa snarled, and knocked harder on the door.

"It hardly matters," whispered Elizabeth almost inaudibly. "Unless you really have something to confess," her eyes searched Jack's face, but his expression was guarded.

He narrowed his eyes, a faint smile hovering over his lips, his rough fingertips drawing shapes on the bare skin of her back. He touched her lips with hers, and breathed: "Do you?"

They stared at each other wordlessly, and it suddenly crossed Elizabeth's mind that he was not drawing anything, but _writing _something on her skin with the pads of his fingers. But she concentrated too late, and only managed to distinguish "o" and "u", and then his hand stilled its movements.

"Maybe he isn't," muttered Barbossa in a hoarse voice, audibly irritated.

"Maybe he's in the rum cellar?" offered Will in a calmer tone.

Elizabeth slowly brought her hand to Jack's face. His smile dwindled, and he looked at her seriously. "Isn't it obvious?" she asked quietly, cupping his cheek with her hand.

"How can it be obvious if I don't know it?" he whispered tonelessly, looking at her intently, subconsciously leaning into her touch, and thinking that it was strange, it was so strange, but at the same time infinitely soothing to feel her skin under his palms; much more soothing than feeling the coolness of the ocean, or the glass of a rum bottle, or even the wood of the _Pearl_...

"You don't know it?" she whispered with a trace of annoyance in her voice, not even blinking at the knocking on the door which resounded again. "I think you know it very well," she said with a flash of anger in her eyes, which suddenly looked glassy. "But maybe you just don't care," she added in a hollow whisper, her eyes never leaving his.

He studied her face for a moment, before pressing his lips to her ear. She shifted as if to snatch herself away from his embrace, but he held her tight, his hands on her back warmer with every second, and she felt that she would burn if he kept them there for several more minutes...

"I care enough to kill ye-" She wanted to interrupt him, but he quickly brought one of his hands to her lips, covered them with his palm, and continued in a grating whisper, "if ye let him touch ye like this..." his hand slid down her hip, "kiss ye like that..." without once breaking the contact with her skin, his lips travelled to her her mouth, and when he kissed her, she suddenly stopped hearing any voices, stopped caring if there was somebody at the door... and she did not even know what 'door' was anymore... all the words seemed to flee, and she was left only with that overpowering feeling of comfort, warmth, sweetness, _inevitability_ that was coursing through her body with every dash of his hands, every brush of his lips.

"Jack, what did you mean when you said that the Locker was full of me?" she asked softly when they broke the kiss to breathe, her heartbeat so loud in her ears that she could hardly hear her own voice.

He looked at her with flaring eyes, his lips twisting into a dangerously mesmerizing smile. "There was no water except for the memory of your lips," he whispered sifting her hair through his fingers, as they stood looking at each other, oblivious to everything around them. "And no sound except for the memory of your voice." Elizabeth bit her lip, a broken smile flickering across her lips. "No wind except the memory of yer breathing, no dreams," he kissed her lightly, "except the memory of you."

Elizabeth stared at him wide-eyed, half-fearing that she was only imagining his words... "Jack..." she pressed her lips to his, and he returned the kiss with sudden urgency, kissing her feverishly, impatiently, _truthfully_-

He broke the kiss, startled by the realization, but it was too late, and she was already looking at him with amazement.

"We've to go," he muttered huskily, loosening his embrace, grabbing the dress from his desk, and giving it to Elizabeth once again.

She took the dress, but stepped in front of him when he tried to walk away. "Jack-"

"We've to go, luv," he repeated, and his childish efforts to evade her inquiries made her smile.

"Jack-"

"Shh," he grabbed her by the waist, and neared his lips to her ear. "And try not to look too ravishing, or I may not be able to restrain myself from ravishing ye in front of everyone," he kissed her ear, and drew back.

But she threw the dress over her shoulder, and pulled him back toward her, clutching the fabric of his shirt with both hands. "And who said that I am going to let you ravish me at all?" she asked with a faint glimpse of mischief in her eyes.

He grinned lazily, pressing his lips to her neck in a quick, warm kiss. "And who said I'm going to ask for yer consent?" He pulled away, holding her gaze for a moment, before sauntering off toward the door.

Elizabeth smiled to herself, amused by the fact that he was bluffing not even suspecting that she wasn't.

"There are some brushes, mirrors, and all that in the lower drawer," said Jack indicating one of the cabinets, and holding back a smile. Then he opened the door, and walked out of the cabin.

Elizabeth waited for the door to close, before allowing herself to grin and giggle under her breath. Quickly, she went to the side cabin to change, trying to block the bleak thoughts from invading her mind. She had so little time, and she did not want to spend that time worrying about something that she could do nothing about anyway. Right now she just wanted to think about Jack, and about forgiveness that, she felt, was only a kiss away.

_Or a kiss ago..._, she thought with timid excitement, remembering what he had said about the Locker...

* * *

Barbossa and Will almost jumped, when the door suddenly opened. Jack walked out of the Captain's Quarters, and looked at them with raised eyebrows, greatly surprised to see them, apparently.

"Shouldn't ye be both in the brig?" he asked, wrinkling his forehead. "Or at least up on the deck doin' somethin' actually helpful," he added, and attempted to walk away.

"Where the hell are ye goin'?" Barbossa called after him, annoyed. "We've t' discuss-"

"Where is Elizabeth?" Will cut off Barbossa, taking a few steps toward Jack, who swirled around to face them.

"As for yer question," Jack pointed to Barbossa somewhat disgustedly. "I'm goin' where I want t' be goin', an' it should be of no interest t' ye. As for yer question," he looked at Will, and something tugged on his heart at the memory of that ridiculous wedding, and he smirked inwardly. "She's in there," he said, indicating his cabin door with a wave of his hand. Will's brows furrowed. "Getting dressed," he added, struggling to keep a straight face, and then satisfied with the sight of Will's face paling rapidly, turned around, and quickly headed for the main deck smiling to himself complacently.

* * *

Bill Turner slowly walked across the gangplank, looking wearily around. He could not even remember when was the last time he was in Shipwreck Cove. In one moment it felt like he had been here ages ago, and in the next moment as if he had been here very recently.

He still could not organize and calm his thoughts. His memories seemed to blend, and sometimes he was not sure what he remembered, and what he only thought that he remembered...

For example, he suddenly remembered that Elizabeth was the name of that girl with whom he and Jack had been stranded on the island after the mutiny, and who had so mysteriously disappeared... But then he thought that he only had such an impression, because his son's fiancee's name was Elizabeth, and because of that he somehow mixed up the names... However, to complicate the matters even more, he also 'remembered' that he was never stranded on any island... that he had been... dead.

Well, he must have been dead. He was on the _Flying Dutchman_!

...wasn't he?...

He rubbed his forehead, and squinted into the distance. How could he have been simultaneously murdered, and stranded on an island? There was no sense in his memories... He distinctly remembered staying on the _Black Pearl_ after the mutiny... Although that would have meant that he had been killed, and seeing that he was alive right now... he could not have been dead, could he?

On the other hand he distinctly remembered being warned by that girl to leave the ship, and he did recall jumping overboard...

Well, he kind of recalled that... He had jumped, hadn't he? Perhaps he hadn't...

But then all of a sudden he had an impression that _that _girl not only had his son's fiancee's name, but also... her face. Now. He was definitely losing control over his mind.

Bootstrap shook his head resignedly, thinking that he should talk to Jack first chance he got. Jack must remember what had _really _happened. If they were stranded, if that version was true, he would surely remember it. After all that lass was with him... He would certainly remember her. If any of that had really happened, that is...

* * *

"Elizabeth?" Will knocked on the door once again, but then pushed it open without waiting for an answer. He walked in, and held his breath at the sight of Elizabeth sitting at Jack's desk in a scarlet dress, busy trying to tie her hair, a few loose strands falling over her half-bare shoulders.

She looked up at him, startled, but quickly regained her composure, and smiled. "Will," she positioned the second hair pin across the first one to keep a small bun that she had made in place, put the brush away, and stood up.

Will stared at her, rendered speechless firstly because she looked truly stunning, and secondly because... the cleavage of the dress was rather... distractive. "Why- What- Why are you wearing this?" he asked, baffled, trying to keep his eyes on her face.

Elizabeth blinked, but then the expression on her face hardened. "Well, you, of all people, should know," she said with slight haughtiness, feeling a bit guilty for passing the blame on him in order to prevent his suspicions. Will's eyes widened in stupefaction. Elizabeth walked away from the desk, heading for the door. "Because of your secret deals, we had to deal with Sao Feng," she said slightly gritting her teeth, and turning toward him.

Will sighed. "I know-" he started, but Elizabeth did not let him finish.

"And Barbossa wanted to trade me to him," she said, looking at Will with cold annoyance, but feeling even colder inside, because of her behaviour. It was not fair to make him feel guilty, only to place herself in a better - or safer, for that matter - light.

"What?" Will took a few hasty steps toward her, knitting his eyebrows in angry astonishment. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that he wanted to exchange me for Sao Feng's changing sides and turning against Beckett."

Will clenched his fists, and was about to storm out of the cabin, find Barbossa, and shoot him, but then he remembered about the dress. "But what does it all have to do with _this dress_?" he asked, and the way he said the words slightly hurt Elizabeth; they sounded almost like an insult.

She thrust up her chin, and took a deep breath. "Jack told Sao Feng that I am his concubine, so he would not take me away," she said quickly, feeling a shade of red creeping over her cheeks, but despite a sudden feeling of embarrassment that washed over her she managed to look Will straight in the eye.

For a moment there was a perfect silence in the cabin, as Will tried, in vain, to form some words.

"We will have to pretend in Shipwreck Cove that I am..." added Elizabeth, her voice slightly faltering at the sight of pure horror in Will's eyes.

"Elizabeth, you're not serious," he said at last in a much calmer voice that she had expected him to use. But he was apparently too taken aback by the news to get angry.

Elizabeth shrugged her shoulders, putting on the most helpless facial expression she could muster. "I don't think I have much choice," she said almost tearfully, and then quickly opened the door, and walked out to avoid further discussion, at least at the moment.

* * *

Governor Swann stood by the railing of the _Black Pearl _watching the crew finishing the work around the ship while he was waiting for Elizabeth to come. Last he had seen of her was when she had gone below the deck after the interrupted ceremony. He had wanted to follow her, but something had told him not to... Maybe she had needed some time alone with her thoughts.

He sighed. Had he done the right thing when he had interrupted the wedding?... He should have talked to her first...

Although... he _had_ talked to her. She had told him... He closed his eyes, and sighed again. With her confession, she had taken away from him all the possibilities of influencing her, of exercising any parental authority over her. How was he supposed to tell her that she should not love that man, if she had told him that she loved him more than anything? How was he supposed to tell her that it was wrong... Was it wrong? Was love wrong? Could it be wrong? Could it be right... He was... a pirate, it was not only unacceptable, it was simply _impossible_ for them to be together. He felt a wave of iciness washing over him at the very idea. But that was not the most important problem. The most important was the fact that _that man_ did not deserve her. And he would never love her the way she wanted him too. He would never give her the life she deserved to have, he would never guarantee her safety, she would never know if one day he would not just leave her all alone, not to mention that she would be in constant danger... and would she really be able to leave away from the society? From the... civilization? Was it what she really wanted? She could not possibly want it. Or at least he, as her father, could not possibly let her want it...

He looked exhaustedly around the deck. Perhaps one thing he should certainly do was learning something more about _that man_, to understand why... He wrinkled his forehead. He should also keep a sharp eye on them both. As in love as Elizabeth was, in that state of mind, she was too vulnerable to be able to protect herself. And there was nothing easier than taking advantage of a girl who was in love-

His train of thought was suddenly interrupted by Elizabeth's appearance. She emerged from below the deck, followed by distressed-looking Will. But the Governor was more distressed... by the sight of her.

Elizabeth smiled when she saw him, and quickly walked toward him, hoping that Will would not continue their conversation in front of her father.

"Elizabeth," the Governor looked her up and down with wide eyes. "What is _that_?" he asked in a hollow voice, horrified by the dress.

"Elizabeth, this is ridiculous," said Will, appearing at her side, and despite her hoping that he would not, he was apparently going to continue their conversation.

"Well, seeing that it is actually your fault-" she said with a small pout, glancing at her father, who still looked aghast by her attire.

"My fault?" Will widened his eyes at her, trying not to shout for the sake of the Governor.

"Oh, let's go," said Elizabeth impatiently, starting for the gangplank.

"Luv, ye do not mean to go there all alone, do ye?"

Elizabeth stopped in her tracks, and swirled around to see Jack sauntering toward them. An involuntary smile appeared on her face, but she quickly stopped smiling remembering the presence of her father, and more importantly Will.

"I can take care of myself, thank you very much," she said in a cool voice, despite her breath that had caught in her throat at the sight of him, and she could almost feel his lips on hers when her eyes swept over his mouth...

"It's my duty to be takin' care of ye, darlin', as long as we have to keep those _unfortunate_ appearances," he said with a cocky smile, but the relief that she felt when she saw that he was going to play her game vanished the moment he grabbed her hand, and to her horror tugged her toward him in front of Will and her father.

"We have t' talk whether ye want to or not," Barbossa suddenly joined them, looking very angry and irritated. "An' we have t' talk before the Brethren meetin'."

Jack laced his fingers with Elizabeth's tightly, and they locked eyes for a fraction of a second, a fraction long enough to make Elizabeth's head spin.

Governor Swann's mouth twitched, but Will did not notice anything.

"I'm afraid our conversation will have to wait," said Jack, spotting Gibbs, who gave him a sign indicating that everything had been done, and they could go ashore.

"Until when?" asked Barbossa with a sweetish smile, glaring at him.

Jack squinted. "At least until... forever. Let's go," he added, shouting last orders to the crew, and starting for the gangplank, pulling Elizabeth with him, her carmine silk dress fanning around her. She followed without looking back neither at Will, nor at her father, because she could imagine all too well their facial expressions at the moment...

* * *

"You don't have to grip my hand so tightly, I have no intention of running away," said Elizabeth looking straight ahead, as they walked through the grimly looking town, attracting general attention, and Elizabeth wondered whether everybody was looking at them because of him being Captain Jack Sparrow, or rather because of her wearing a bright dress.

Jack squeezed her hand even tighter. "Oh, I wouldn't be so sure 'bout that. Pirates like ye are not t' be trusted, dearie," he said with a trace of a smile flickering across his face, his eyes fixed on the place they were approaching.

She brushed the back of his hand with her thumb. "Pirates like me? Should I understand that you are a different kind of pirate?" she asked dubiously. "I thought we were peas in a pod," she added, glancing at him with a small smile, which broadened when she saw him smiling enigmatically in return, even though he did not look at her.

"That was before you-"

"How many times do I have to ask you not to taunt me?" cut in Elizabeth, turning her head toward him.

He looked at her with sparkling eyes, and she held her breath. "That was before you proved herself to be a better pirate," he said, dropping 'than me' for the sake of self-esteem.

Elizabeth stared at him in bewilderment, but before she had a chance to say anything, he embraced her, and kissed her fiercely.

* * *

"...That was how it seemed to me when I came here for the first time," Gibbs walked beside the Governor, figuring out that it was better to keep him company than to leave him to his own thoughts at the moment. Will accompanied them, looking gloomy, and only half-listening. His father walked next to him, looking at his son concernedly. "I always had an impression that Jack was not very fond of the place," continued Gibbs, "for some reason. He had left it right before joining the East India Trading Company, and then for many years-" Gibbs stopped in mid-sentence, and grimaced.

"Before... joining the East India Trading Company?" the Governor repeated incredulously, staring at Gibbs in astonishment.

"Aye," Gibbs nodded, wincing, regretting letting, not for the first time, his tale carry him way too away.

"He worked for..." the Governor blinked, trying to comprehend the newly acquired startling piece of information.

"Beckett," confirmed Gibbs. "A long story. Well, a short one, at that, but-"

He stopped at the sound of clinging metal, and to his bafflement he noticed that Will had drawn out his sword, and started running toward...

Gibbs blinked, and then winced, muttering some unintelligible words in a miserable voice, and quickly running after Will.

The Governor followed them with a stony face, his eyes fixed on the pair that stood in the middle of the road... kissing.

* * *

"Will, I told you! We have to pretend!" exclaimed Elizabeth defensively, shooting Jack a murderous look, and annoyed by his facial expression, amused despite the fact of having the tip of Will's sword pressed to his neck.

"Shh, luv. Not so loud, there will be no use pretendin' if ye'll shout everywhere that ye're pretendin'," said Jack, twitching his nose.

"I think we should just go inside," offered Gibbs in a reconciliatory tone of voice, but everybody ignored him.

"And what is the use of pretending if the _Empress _is not even here yet?" hissed Will angrily, glaring at Jack.

Jack and Elizabeth blinked in unison, and then they both looked around rather hopelessly.

To his utter astonishment, the Governor caught himself finding the situation actually amusing, which brought a deep frown on his face.

Gibbs rolled his eyes. "Sao Feng has his spies everywhere," he observed in a low voice.

Jack looked at him with sincere appreciation. "Exactly," he said with a smile, trying to move, but it only made Will press the sword to his neck harder. Jack pouted.

"And how-" started Will sneeringly, but Elizabeth cut him off.

"Here she is!" she exclaimed a bit too happily pointing toward the docks.

Everybody looked in that direction, and indeed the silhouette of Sao Feng's ship came into view, the _Empress_' easily distinguishable sails fluttering in the wind.


	33. Chapter 33

A/N: **_Thank you very much for all the wonderful reviews!_ :)**

...& many thanks to those who voted for VOUN in the LJ potcvotes fanfic awards!! Thank you so much! (The link to the beautiful banner can be found on my profile:)

Disclaimer: PotC belong to Disney.

**Chapter 33**

Jack was not the one to let an opportune moment slip, so as soon as everybody's attention was drawn to the _Empress_, he brushed Will's sword off his neck, grabbed Elizabeth's hand, and headed for the main entrance of the strange structure that seemed to be the most prominent place on the island.

"You didn't need to do this," hissed Elizabeth, glancing over her shoulder, and seeing everybody following them, Will in the lead, sword in hand, and a very irritated expression on his face.

"No, no, no, Lizzie. Kissing in public _was_ a part of our plan, if ye care to remember," replied Jack, almost unconsciously lacing his fingers with hers.

They turned around the corner, and Elizabeth looked around the dimly lit corridor. She furtively glanced at their intertwined hands, and smiled impishly, but then wrinkled her nose, and looked at Jack sternly. "Public, meaning Sao Feng and the Brethren, and not Will-"

She gasped when Jack suddenly pressed her against the wall, his lips an inch from hers. "An' why would it bother ye so, that _he_ saw us, I wonder?" He looked at her intensely, his dark eyes piercing through hers, his breath ghosting over her skin.

"It would bother me if he killed you," she replied in a soft voice.

Jack's face brightened. "Good answer," he stated with a smile, and wanted to continue walking, but Elizabeth grasped him by the shoulders, and turned him back toward her.

"Stop patronizing me!" she said irritatedly.

He grinned. "I can ravish ye instead," he cupped her face, and, to her utter dismay - as she could already hear the steps of Will and others approaching - kissed her.

"Jack!" she whispered through her gritted teeth, catching her breath. "Stop-"

He kissed her again, holding her close, and taking his time to make the kiss as thorough as possible. A second before Will turned around the corner, he had broken the kiss, and started walking again, pulling completely dazed Elizabeth with him.

"You're mad," she breathed with half-hearted anger, staring at the ground, and trying not to trip, her legs shaking.

"Ye don't mind, do ye?" he glanced at her with a small, mischievous, sincerely amused smile, and she felt her heart fluttering strangely at the sudden realization that he was acting as if none of those grim, ghastly things had ever happened, as if she had never done anything wrong... And she found herself returning his smile. They locked eyes, and kept smiling at each other until they heard Gibbs calling: "Watch out!" But before the warning registered in their minds, they bumped into somebody they had not noticed was coming their way in the hallway.

"Oi," Jack muttered unhappily, while Elizabeth rubbed her temple.

"Watch where ye're goin', kids."

Elizabeth blinked, and looked at the tall man that stood before them. Jack looked up, and frowned.

"Would ye introduce me to yer lady, Jackie?" The man asked in a low voice, shifting his eyes from Jack to Elizabeth. Elizabeth glanced at Jack curiously.

"She is not-" started Will irately, but Jack cut him off.

"Captain Teague," he started the introduction, and Gibbs had to grab Will by the arm to prevent him from any further, and decidedly more violent interventions. "Miss Lizzie Sp-" Jack's eyes widened at his nearly made mistake, "Swann," he corrected himself quickly, almost choking on the word, a wave of coldness washing over him. _Buggerbuggerbugger_

Elizabeth shot Jack a curious look.

Teague reached for Elizabeth's hand, and kissed it. "Pleasure's all mine," he said in response to Elizabeth's polite remark, looking at her intensely. "Miss Spwann."

"Miss Swann," corrected Jack through his gritted teeth, catching that flash of amusement in Teague's eye which told him that the man had mispronounced the name on purpose.

"Aye," Teague nodded slowly, "Miss Swann."

"Is everybody here already?" asked Jack, trying to change the topic.

"I saw the _Empress_ on the horizon. That makes everybody," answered Teague, looking at Elizabeth.

"Let us go take our seats, then" said Jack, draping, to Will's silent dismay and Governor Swann's great discomfort, his arm around Elizabeth's waist, his hand resting on her hip.

They walked past Teague, who looked after them for a moment, before saying a few words of welcoming to the rest of the group, and being introduced by Gibbs to the people whom he did not know, although while making the introductions Gibbs left out the superfluous bits of information, such as Elizabeth's father being a Governor of Port Royal...

Jack opened a tall wooden door on the right side of the corridor, and let Elizabeth in.

"Who is he?" she asked in a low voice, looking at Jack interestedly, the striking similarity in his and the man's appearance triggering her curiosity.

"He's the Keeper of the Code," answered Jack, avoiding looking her straight in the eye.

Elizabeth acknowledged the information, but then narrowed her eyes. "That's it?" she asked, slowly averting her eyes from Jack to look around an empty, large room with a grand table in the middle, and several rows of chairs around it.

"That's a lot of work, apparently," added Jack with a twitch of his nose.

Elizabeth giggled, and he shifted his eyes to her. "That's not what I'm asking of, Jack," she said, looking at him with a smile, which faded when she caught a strange expression in his eyes. "What?" She asked in a whisper.

"You're beautiful when you laugh," he said quietly, and she blinked.

They stared at each other for a moment, before throwing themselves into each other's arms, lips crashing, hands roaming chaotically everywhere they could reach.

"And here is-" started Gibbs as he entered the room, his eyes widening. "Actually," he said quickly walking out, and shutting the door behind him. "Perhaps we should go... have a meal first?" he proposed with an artificial smile.

Barbossa raised his eyebrows, the Governor felt suddenly very cold, Will started for the door, and only Pintel and Ragetti nodded vigorously, but everybody ignored them, deciding to follow Will instead.

Will pulled the door knob, and to Gibbs' visible discomposure walked inside.

"...And then they made me-" Jack, who was sitting at the head of the table with his feet propped on it, glanced disinterestedly at Will over his shoulder, and then turned back toward Elizabeth who was sitting at the far end of the table, listening intently. "Then they made me a Pirate Lord," finished Jack with a wave of his hand, staggering to his feet.

Will gave Jack a stern look, and walked over to Elizabeth, accidentally stepping on her two hair pins that were, for some reason, scattered on the floor. Elizabeth nervously tucked her hair behind her ears, shooting Jack a half-seriously accusing look, to which his only response was a hardly noticeable smirk.

Gibbs peeked into the room, and seeing no bloodshed threat, walked inside followed by everybody else. "Aye. Here is the Great Chamber," he said, continuing his little speech about Shipwreck Cove and its arrangements.

Will picked up the hair pins, and handed them to Elizabeth with a stony face, looking at her searchingly. She stood up, and thanked him with a timid smile.

Governor Swann looked around the room, his gaze stopping at Jack, whose eyes were repeatedly darting to Elizabeth and Will standing next to each other and talking.

"Well, we better take our seats before the place gets too crowded," said Jack with a brief smile.

The Governor watched Jack come up to Will and Elizabeth, and rather unceremoniously grab her hand, and drag her away. She almost tripped over her own feet, which upset the Governor, who was about to intervene, and express his disapproval of such treatment of his daughter, when he noticed her glancing at Jackwith that light in her eyes which had always prevented him from doing anything, somehow.

"Jealous?" whispered Elizabeth, narrowing her eyes at Jack as he indicated her a chair in which he wanted her to sit.

He snorted, giving her his lop-sided smile. "Yer imagination is runnin' away with ye, darlin'," said Jack, slumping down in a chair next to Elizabeth, his eyes boring into hers.

Elizabeth bit her lower lip, and smiled. "It's Miss Spwann to you," she whispered, leaning toward him, and trying not to chuckle.

Jack squinted, his eyes flickering to her lips, which were decidedly too close for their own good.

"Sao Feng is still not here," announced Will unnecessarily, in a loud voice, his eyes fixed on Elizabeth, who hastily drew away from Jack, blushing from embarrassment, and suddenly realizing with astonishment that she kept forgetting there were any people around beside her and Jack.

The chamber's door opened, and people started coming in, shooting distrustful looks around the room. To Will's irritation, several people quickly took the seats opposite to Jack and Elizabeth, preventing him from sitting near them, and making it more difficult for him to keep a watchful eye on them.

The Governor slowly walked to the table, and took the seat showed to him by Gibbs, relieved that he could still see his daughter and _that man _even if he was sitting rather far away from them.

Jack glanced at Will, and then with certain nonchalance draped his arm over Elizabeth's shoulders. Elizabeth shot an uncertain look at her father, whose facial expression was unreadable. Will sat between the Governor and Bootstrap, glaring daggers at Jack. Jack tapped his fingers on Elizabeth's shoulder, causing the dress' sleeve that had been already covering only half of her shoulder, to slid even further down, so that his hand was now resting on her completely unclad skin. Elizabeth swallowed, but pretended not to notice any of that, and look around the room with exaggerated interest instead. Bill Turner watched the scene curiously, strange images running through his head...

Jack snuggled his nose into Elizabeth's hair, and sniffed it.

Will snarled. "Does he have to do this?" he asked peevishly, leaning forward, and addressing the question to Gibbs, who nervously rubbed his forehead, trying to make sense of the situation. At first he had thought that something was going on between the two, then he had thought that they were really playing some kind of game... Now, for a change, he had a strange impression that they were acting as if they were... drunk. Perhaps they were, who knew? Although... Well, there were not too many possibilities left. If they were not drunk, then the only other thing that came to his mind was that they were... infatuated with each other... to say the least... Either way, they seemed not to be in perfect control over the situation.

"Jack," Elizabeth whispered through her clenched teeth, watching the Pirate Lords and other pirates flooding into the room, "if you'll keep doing this..." she took a deep breath, and exhaled slowly.

Jack brushed his thumb over her shoulder wrapping his other hand around her waist, the fabric of the carmine dress so thin under his palm that he could almost feel her skin... "Doing what?" he asked innocently, propping his chin on her shoulder.

Elizabeth tilted her head to the side, and narrowed her eyes at him with mock annoyance.

"Doing what you're doing," she said, locking her eyes with his, and feeling a strange shiver run through her at every word he spoke, every breath he took.

"I'm not doing anything, luv. I'm just _pretending_," he said, looking her deeply in the eyes, a small smile hovering over his lips.

Elizabeth snorted, rolled her eyes, and looked away. Jack opened his mouth to speak, but when she suddenly put her hand over his on her waist, he fell silent, and only placed his thumb over the back of her hand.

From his place at the table Governor Swann could only see Jack and Elizabeth's profiles, as they sat apparently engrossed by the increasing commotion in the room, not looking at each other. But even though their eyes were fixed elsewhere, it was as if they _were_ looking at each other, and moreover at each other _exclusively_. They seemed to be looking at the people coming into the room, but their eyes were unseeing, their gazes absent.

To Will's relief, Jack at last lifted his chin from Elizabeth's shoulder, but his comfort did not last for long, as the next thing Jack did was brush a few locks of Elizabeth's hair off her neck, and... place his chin on her shoulder again.

"I fail to see the pressing necessity for this entire display," muttered Will irritatedly, considering going to them, and telling Jack to stop exercising the circumstances, but the room was getting impossibly crowded, and not only it would have been difficult to get to them, but also his words would have been lost in the general noise.

The Governor scanned the room with a frown, wrinkling his forehead in disgust at the people around him - at their appearance, their smell, their behaviour. What was he even doing here? What a tangled web of events had brought him to such a place? He would have never guessed, not in a million years, he would have never believed that one day he could have been in a place like this, if somebody had suggested it to him a mere year ago. And yet he was here now. And not only he had to suffer the intolerable company of all those vile, vicious, violent people who would not have hesitated to kill him, should they know who he was; but he also had to suffer the sight of his daughter sitting with the arms of _that pirate _around her. But even that was not the worst. What was the worst was the fact that she appeared to be perfectly happy with that arrangement, and unless his eyes were deceiving him, she seemed to snuggle closer to that man with every passing moment. She smiled and even laughed as he was telling her some apparently very amusing things with his chin on her shoulder, and his lips almost touching her ear as he spoke.

"Once this is over, I'm going to kill him," stated Will matter-of-factly, grabbing a mug that had been placed in front of him, hastily taking a generous swig, and almost choking to death as the liquid turned out to be more burning than anything he had ever drunk.

"Careful, William," said Bill Turner with a smile. "Ye won't find stronger drinks anywhere else."

"Aye!" agreed Gibbs, his mood improving upon receiving his own mug.

The Governor looked warily at the drink before him, and then very cautiously lifted the mug, and with a grimace put it away. Pintel, who sat across from him at the table pointed to the mug, and then to himself with a hesitant smile. The Governor awkwardly nodded his head. Pintel smiled broadly, and grabbed the mug, placing it next to his own, and shooting Ragetti and his single mug a triumphant look.

"Here," a shaggily-looking man put a glass of water in front of Will. "From Captain Sparrow," he added with a badly concealed chuckle, and walked away.

Pintel and Ragetti started to laugh, and Will shot them an annoyed look, before glancing at Jack, who smiled and raised his mug into Will's direction.

Will looked away with a frown, and crossed his arms over his chest. "Do some people ever die?" he said under his breath.

"Good question," observed Barbossa, joining the company at the table, and taking a seat next to Ragetti, and across the table from Bill Turner with whom he exchanged a long, seemingly blank look.

The room was already impossibly crowded and loud. The Governor could hardly stand the noise as he sat motionlessly, half-watching the surroundings, his eyes shifting frequently to his daughter, and Jack Sparrow. They were not sitting all that far away, but because of the commotion he could not hear their voices at all. He could only see... The Governor's eyes widened. What was that man doing?!

"Calypso?" Elizabeth turned around to fully face Jack. With the chaos around them, she felt a bit more confident.

"Aye," Jack put away his rum, and slowly ran his fingers across her face. "The Brethren Court confined her to a special kind of prison," said Jack, as he finished briefly characterizing all the Pirate Lords for Elizabeth, and when they moved on to another subject. He cupped her cheek with his hand, and ran hin thumb along her bottom lip.

"What kind of prison?" she asked, glancing at Will, who was not looking at them in that very moment. She smiled inwardly at that, and quickly leaned toward Jack to kiss him, but then remembered that she should also check whether her father was not looking at them, and when she looked at her father she noticed that he, indeed, _was_ looking at them. She pulled away abruptly, but Jack's attention was already drawn to her lips, and the temptation was too much to endure, so he slid his hand into her hair, and, to the Governor's utter dismay, pulled her into a brief, but ardent kiss.

"What 'bout some... peanuts!" exclaimed Gibbs, waving a bowl in front of Governor Swann's face in an effort to block his view, and thinking that the kissing pair must be either _very _drunk or more daft that he had ever imagined possible.

"No, thank you," answered the Governor calmly, trying to brush the bowl away from his face.

Elizabeth broke the kiss, and glanced at the further side of the table with apprehension, but to her relief she saw her father being distracted form watching her by Gibbs who was offering him some food.

"My father was looking," whispered Elizabeth, slightly irritated, looking at Jack intensely.

He only smiled roguishly in response. "And I am looking at ye right now."

"Jack..." she narrowed her eyes in a small smile, and then bit her lip. "Do you think... we could sneak out of here for a little while? Sao Feng didn't even come here yet, so the meeting won't begin in the next couple of minutes-" she stopped noticing that Jack was listening to her with a glimpse of amusement in his eyes. "What?" she asked with a trace of annoyance in her voice.

"An' just why would ye like to sneak out from here for a little while, luv?" he asked, tilting his head to the side.

Elizabeth blinked, her thoughts all of a sudden appearing to her as fairly ridiculous. "I-" she started, and swallowed. "I just thought-" her voice cracked, and she blushed at the very idea of giving him the true answer, which was that she desperately wanted to kiss him; kiss him without anybody around, kiss him feverishly, _immediately_. But of course it was not a reason acceptable enough to voice it.

"I will count to five," Jack's voice broke into her thoughts, as he wriggled his fingers at her. "One..."

Elizabeth looked at him, perplexed. "To five? What-"

"Two..." He glanced over his shoulder. Will was talking with his father but shifting his eyes to them from time to time. The Governor tried to look at them, but was being distracted by Gibbs, and Pintel and Ragetti who started arguing over something, and demanded the Governor's opinion on the subject, their voices so loud that it was even possible to catch single words of their argument, despite the distance, and the noise. "Three..." Jack shrugged his coat off his shoulders, and put it over the back of Elizabeth's chair.

"Jack," Elizabeth frowned, not quite knowing what he was actually doing.

"Four..." he reached for her hand, and closed it in his. "Five!" he leaped to his feet, pulling Elizabeth with him, throwing his hat on his chair, and quickly making his way through the crowd, tugging Elizabeth closer to him.

She gasped, but held back all her questions, and before she had a chance to look back, they were already in the corridor, far from the room's wooden door, and the next thing she knew was Jack's lips crashing against hers, his arms around her, his body pressed to hers, as he backed her against the wall. She threw her arms around his neck, and dove into the kiss unhesitatingly. The world was spinning, the air was aglitter, and she could hear the music playing... somewhere at the back of her head... her scattered thoughts colliding with all those feelings he was evoking, inventing, making possible...

"I'm sorry, Jack. I'm sorry for everything," she whispered, even though he tried to hush her.

He stroked her hair, and brushed his lips over hers. "No more lies, Lizzie, and we'll be fine," he kissed her lips gingerly.

"Lies?" she opened her eyes, and touched his cheek.

He smiled. "Aye. I'm not sorry, and all that," he kissed her again.

"Yes, but it has to work both ways," she said, breaking the kiss, lacing her hands behind his neck, and nuzzling the side of his face.

"Ye're not suggestin' that I've ever lied to ye, luv, are ye?" he turned his head, and caught her lips in between his.

She snorted, and deepened the kiss, pulling him against her as close as possible. He whispered her name, and she shivered under his hands roaming over her body, pressing the cool fabric of her dress closer to her skin, making her wish that she could just feel his hands on her skin... with nothing in between.

He kissed her fervently, hardly remembering what he had ever been upset with her about. Had she done anything wrong? Could an angel like her do anything wrong?

He slowly ran his hands up her arms, her neck; ran his fingers through her hair, drew his open palms across her back, his mouth leaving hers only to burn her neck with open-mouthed kisses, and then returning to her lips. He knew that they should go back to the room, but every second seemed to bring them closer together, and he could not make himself break that chain of emotions that surged through him; not for anything. The time spent in the Locker suddenly seemed so insignificant, as if it had not happened at all... as if it had not mattered at all... Nothing mattered, but the feeling of holding her in his arms, kissing her, touching-

But then suddenly she whispered something, and he froze thinking that he must have misheard her. She could not have really said it, could she? He was willing to assume that she had not, but then she said it again:

"James!"

Now. He always thought it possible that women would be calling _his _name while being with other men, however it was absolutely _unthinkable_ that they would be saying somebody else's name while being with _him_.

He opened his eyes, and looked at Elizabeth with a hurt expression on his face, but then noticed that she was staring at something over his shoulder with wide eyes. Cautiously, he turned his head, but the corridor was empty.

"Lizzie?" he looked back at Elizabeth, who blinked, snapping back into the reality.

"It was him, I saw him!" she exclaimed nervously. "He walked into the room with some of Sao Feng's crew!"

"Who walked into the room?" Jack looked at her hesitantly, tucking loose strands of her hair behind her ear, and involuntarily imagining himself doing that very thing every morning... He smiled inwardly at that.

Elizabeth rolled her eyes. "James. James Norrington!"

* * *

"I'm going," said Will jumping to his feet, after several minutes of waiting, to no avail, for Jack and Elizabeth to come back to the Great Chamber.

"Maybe Elizabeth just wanted to get outside for a moment to get some fresh air, it's mighty humid here," observed Gibbs as confidently as he could, hoping that Jack and Elizabeth were not mad enough to go somewhere, and not come back at all.

"That's right, William, sit down," said Bill Turner, placing his hand on Will's shoulder. "Jack has to be present during the meeting, they'll be back soon, I'm sure," he said reassuringly, glancing at Gibbs who kept shooting uncertain looks toward the door.

Will sat back down, and sighed. Bill smiled, although he did not feel like smiling at all. There was something peculiar going on between his friend and his son's fiancée... Something more than a little display for the sake of – still absent... – Sao Feng. But he saw no reason to share his thoughts with his son. Perhaps he was wrong... Perhaps...

Governor Swann said nothing, although he thought that Will going after Jack and Elizabeth would not have been such a bad idea... He himself was a bit worried by their sudden disappearance. Or rather by the _style _of their disappearance. Even though they must have known that everybody had seen them leaving, they had run out of the room like a pair of mischievous children. And that look in their eyes... He did not know whether he was more frightened, or relieved by the impression that the feelings that his daughter had for that pirate were, apparently, mutual...

* * *

Walking through Shipwreck Cove, James felt rather uneasy. Despite the fact that Sao Feng's crew accompanied him, and that somehow he had made them believe that he had changed sides, and was no longer the Admiral under the East India Trading Company, he still had a feeling that everybody knew that he did not belong here, that he was a stranger here, and maybe also that he did not quite decide yet on which side he was...

The truth was, that he was not sure what was he going to do once he would find Governor Swann and Elizabeth and secure their safety. He wanted to escort them to a safe port, and then... And then he was not sure what he wanted to do... Should he turn the _Empress_ back to Beckett? Disclose the location of the Cove? Proceed with the war?

The war...

He walked through the town, trying to decide on which side he was on. At heart. Was there even such a side? Did he know what he really wanted? Did he know what he believed in? He had never questioned his beliefs before... But right now he was not sure if there was anything to question... He had just never analyzed his convictions, they had always seemed so impeccably clear, so lucid, that he had never felt the necessity to question them, to doubt them...

Until now.

He walked into the building through the door that Tai Huang had showed him. Sao Feng's first mate had proved to be a very skilled sailor, and a smart, reasonable man, although – or maybe rather because of that – James could still see traces of distrust and wariness in the man's eyes, as if he was constantly trying to decipher his intentions, waiting for that one moment when he would let his guard down, and reveal what he was thinking. It crossed his mind more than once that the only reason why they had not overthrown him and killed him, was that Sao Feng had given him that strange necklace of his, and perhaps they believed that their captain had had a reason to do that, a better reason that a desperate act of a dying man. James himself was not sure why the man had given him his Piece of Eight (that was what Tai Huang had called the necklace when he had shown it to him), and how conscious that decision had been.

The corridor was dimly lit, and strangely cool. James looked around, as he followed Tai Huang through the interiors of the pirate quarters. When they reached a tall wooden door, he had caught a glimpse of a pair cuddled against each other in the further part of the hallway. A man with dark hair and a woman in a scandalously indecent red dress, kissing in the most outrageous manner. He looked away with a disapproving frown, and followed Tai Huang inside the Great Chamber.

* * *

Gibbs slowly put away his mug, the Governor blinked, Will squinted. The entire room suddenly grew quiet, as everybody looked at the newcomers.

Tai Huang glanced at James, curious as to how the man would handle the situation. Despite wearing the Chinese pirate attire, he was still wearing his wig, and there was also something in his eyes that made him... visible, which was both impressing when put to good use, but also dangerous if the circumstances were not calling for visibility. He had a look of a stranger, and Tai Huang thought that unless he would say something wise, and say it quickly too, he might find himself in trouble.

"Isn't that..." Ragetti gave Pintel a hesitant look.

"Aye, it is," nodded Pintel, looking at James with a frown on his face. "The bloody Commodore who stole our heart."

Ragetti looked at his own chest, then craned his neck to look at Pintel's chest, and blinked in confusion. "He stole our hearts?"

Pintel rolled his eyes, and grumbled. "He stole the heart of Davy Jones!" he hissed through his gritted teeth, shooting Ragetti an impatient look, and then shifting his eyes back to James.

"Where is Sao Feng?" somebody shouted from the crowd, recognizing Sao Feng's first mate, but not recognizing the man next to him.

"Aye, where is he?" asked Ammand the Corsair, standing up, hand on the hilt of his sword.

Tai Huang shifted his eyes from the gathering to James.

James took a deep breath, and said in a very loud, clear voice: "Sao Feng is dead."

There was an immediate commotion caused by his words, which made Jack and Elizabeth's reentering of the room at that very moment escape almost everybody's notice.

"He was killed in the attack. He died an honorable death. And he passed..." James raised the necklace for the pirates to see, "his Piece of Eight... to me."

The choir of agitated and irritated voices followed that announcement as well as Jack staring at James with wide eyes.

"What did he say?" whispered Elizabeth, who stood by the door with her hand laced through Jack's arm.

"Basically," Jack wrinkled his forehead, and twitched his nose, "he said that he's the Pirate Lord of the South China Sea, luv. Bloody thump-thump stealer," he added with a pout.

Elizabeth bit back a smile, still feeling dazed from their kisses, but trying very hard to concentrate on the reality around her. Although it crossed her mind that the reality did not matter as long as she could stand close to Jack... feel the warmth of his body through the thin fabric of her dress... She bit her lip to keep from grinning.

"Who are ye?" bellowed somebody from the corner of the room, and several other voices joined him. "Who is he?" repeated the man, and the question soon drowned in the noise of swords being drawn out.

Tai Huang glanced at James interestedly, wondering what he would do. James slowly looked around the room, his gaze intent and assessing. Suddenly, when he glanced over his shoulder he noticed something that rendered him speechless. He froze. Perhaps he would not have been all that surprised to find out that the man whom he had seen in the corridor just a moment ago was Jack Sparrow... But the realization that the girl in the red dress had been- _was _Elizabeth was almost more that he could bear. His first thought was to draw out his sword and defend her- But then he noticed that Elizabeth had her hand laced through Jack's arm, and did not look like she needed defending. In fact, she looked quite... content.

"It'd be wise to say something more to the Court." Tai Huang calm voice shook James out of his reverie.

James hastily turned around noticing a rather large number of people starting for him with their swords and pistols drawn, and none near friendly expressions on their faces.

"Jack, they'll kill him," whispered Elizabeth tugging lightly on Jack's shirt sleeve.

"Serves him right," answered Jack with a shrug. "May I remind ye that if he didn't steal me thump-thump, we wouldn't have been in this predicament in the first place," he said, looking around the room with his eyes narrowed.

"Jack!" Elizabeth tapped him on the arm, half-amused, half-aghast.

"What?" he looked at her with a pout.

She smiled. "He has a Piece of Eight, and we need all the Pieces of Eight, don't we?" she tried a different approach.

"He won't take his Piece of Eight to the grave with him, Lizzie" replied Jack with a glimpse of mischief in his eyes, and it took Elizabeth a moment to get over the breathtaking impression his eyes always had on her before she could answer him.

"Jack-"

"Not to mention," he interrupted her, leaning closer, "that with Sao Feng dead, there is no reason for _pretending_," he wiggled his eyebrows at her meaningfully.

"Oh, yes," Elizabeth could not help but smile. "If he killed Sao Feng, he does deserve to die," she said, stifling a chuckle.

They smiled at each other, but then quickly remembered to regain their composures.

"Not that we don't have more pressing matters at hand than funerals," muttered Jack with a hint of annoyance in his voice.

"If I may say something!" he let go of Elizabeth's hand, and took a few steps forward, attracting general attention which was up to this point focused on James.

James glanced sadly at Elizabeth who crossed her arms over her chest, her eyes on Jack; then he shifted his eyes to Jack himself.

"Do ye know him?" somebody addressed Jack from the further part of the room, pointing to James.

Jack wrinkled his forehead, and glanced at James out of the corner of his eye. "Well," he squinted thoughtfully, considering the question for a moment. "He was a part of me crew... for a while," he said at last with a twitch of his nose. "He doesn't have much luck with hurricanes, though," he added, and somebody laughed, which was enough to let the tension relax a bit.

James sighed, and shot Jack a slightly annoyed look, which became more annoyed when Elizabeth took a few steps forward, and stood next to Jack, slipping her hand into his. "Last moments of pretending," she whispered to Jack, looking around the room, and meeting Will's steely gaze which she pretended not to notice.

Jack smirked. "Let's deal with all of this first, and then we'll worry 'bout the rest," he whispered back, squeezing her hand.

Elizabeth smiled faintly, involuntarily wondering how many hours she had left till dawn...

"It's only a matter of time until the enemy will arrive at our shores," Barbossa suddenly rose to his feet, and addressed the Court. "And it's time for us to do what has to be done to stop them."

"An' just why do ye think they'll come here? Nobody knows the location of Shipwreck Cove," said Capitaine Chevalle with a nonchalante wave of his hand.

"That's right. I don't think there's any reason to worry," Gentleman Jocard tapped his fingers on the table.

Barbossa glanced at the ceiling. "There _is _areason to worry," he said with diminishing patience.

"Of course there is!"

Everybody's eyes suddenly focused on Elizabeth, and there was a brief moment of absolute silence, before she decided to continue, encouraged by an enigmatic smile on Jack's face. She was not sure whether it was a smile of amusement, or rather... admiration?...

"And we can't just sit here and do nothing!" exclaimed Elizabeth hotly. "Wait until they come, and then graciously acknowledge their presence. We have to fight!"

"If they will really come," Mistress Ching interrupted Elizabeth, "we don't stand a chance. We should leave the Cove and find a different-"

"Leave the Cove?" Elizabeth cut her off receiving a glare from the Pirate Lord of the Pacific Ocean. "Run away like cowards?"

Somebody slammed his mug on the table, and shouted: "I won't have any hussy callin' me-"

But he stopped in mid-sentence when suddenly a bullet hit his mug, and the mug burst into several pieces right in front of him, rum splashing all over his face to general amusement.

Elizabeth darted her eyes to Jack, who was looking at the man, still holding his pistol in the air, a small cloud of smoke hovering around it. "Watch yer tongue, mate. Unless ye want to lose it," he said with a smile that did not reach his eyes.

"I say," bellowed Barbossa in an effort to bring the conversation back on the right track, "we vote for the Pirate King, as it is the King who possesses the exclusive right to declare war."

"Ye made that up," said Jack, shooting Barbossa a distrustful look.

"Did I now?" Barbossa grinned. "It's in the Code. Shall we see the Code?" he looked around, addressing the question to everybody, but before anybody expressed their opinion, the Great Chamber's door opened, and Captain Teague walked in, his steps growing louder as the room was growing quieter with every step he took.

He approached the table, and put a large, heavy, tattered book on it. The hollow thud reverberated in the almost perfect silence. Teague threw the book open, and followed one of the passages with his finger.

Jack and Elizabeth crept noiselessly beside him, trying to take a look at the text.

"Barbossa is right," stated Teague, tapping one of the yellowed pages.

Jack squinted, as he noticed another interesting passage on the same page. "The King may invoke the right to Parley..." he muttered to himself. Elizabeth glanced at him, but said nothing. "I call for a vote!" exclaimed Jack happily, and everyone began to grumble.

"There's no sense in that!" somebody shouted, and others nodded their heads in agreement.

Governor Swann and Will, who were observing everything in silent bewilderment now looked even more confused. Gibbs looked between them, and in a low voice explained to them the rules of the election, and the apparent impossibility of it caused by the fact that every Pirate Lord always voted for him- or herself.

"Eduardo Villanueva votes for Eduardo Villanueva," the Pirate Lord of the Adriatic Sea equally swiftly rose, as a moment later sat down. "Let's have it over with," he muttered to his companion, who laughed.

"Mistress Ching votes for Mistress Ching."

Gibbs smiled at the Governor and at Will, the votes cast so far being the best illustrations of his words.

Teague closed the Code, and walked away from the table, taking a seat in a niche of the room, a guitar in his hand, his eyes calmly fixed on the Brethren Court.

James blinked, when after seven votes being cast, all eyes rested on him. He hardly understood what was going on, except that everybody seemed to vote for themselves, and although he did not see where such behaviour could possibly lead, he did not really see a better alternative than doing the very same thing:

"James Norrington," he said in a firm voice.

Jack squinted, the general attention shifting to him, and to the last vote that he was about to cast.

"James Norrington," he said with a smile, and the world seemed to stop for a moment, before the silence that his words had caused shattered, and all the hell broke loose.


	34. Chapter 34

A/N: _**Thank you very much for all the amazing reviews! **_**:)**

**And special thanks & HUGS for DesiringPirates for making a BEAUTIFUL trailer for this story!! (The link can be found on my profile:)**

Disclaimer: Disney owns Jack, Elizabeth, etc.

**Chapter 34**

"Told ye I've been always rootin' for ye, mate," was the last words audible in the room before all the people gathered in the Great Chamber jumped to their feet in outrage.

James kept staring at Jack, dumbfounded, trying to figure out what had just happened. Elizabeth looked at Jack in puzzlement.

"We don't necessarily know on which side he is on," she whispered into Jack's ear, glancing around uncertainly. The commotion was increasing with every second.

Jack flashed her an amused smile. "Well, we just put him on our side, didn't we?" he said, sneaking his arm around her waist just in case the situation got out of control, in order not to lose her in the crowd.

Elizabeth looked up at him doubtfully, catching the flickering light from the lanterns mirrored in his eyes, making them glitter. And suddenly she felt as if somebody stabbed her. She looked at him as his eyes were scanning the room warily, with surreptitious diligence, and profound calmness that made her feel safe; immediately.

_I will lose you tomorrow... No more looking into your eyes... no more looking at you... from tomorrow on..._

She quickly blinked back the tears, hoping that they went unnoticed. Luckily, Jack was busy saying something, although she had not quite heard what he had said. Something about the Code... But whatever it was, it rendered everybody speechless, and only after a moment she realized that people were not looking at Jack anymore, but glancing at Captain Teague who did not move from his secluded chair, watching the meeting in silence.

"Very well," Mistress Ching hissed through her gritted teeth, turning her head toward James. "James Norrington, the Pirate King of the Brethren Court," Barbossa rolled his eyes, and glared at Jack, this time seriously considering shooting him on the spot. "What say you?"

James blinked, and wrinkled his forehead. Governor Swann, who had stood up along with everybody else watched the scene curiously.

Why would Jack Sparrow vote, from all the people, for James Norrington? He should have voted for somebody whom he might have had a chance to convince to do what he wanted him to do, while James Norrington was certainly not-

And then he noticed James' eyes flickering to Elizabeth. She looked at him anxiously, with pleading intensity, and then it dawned on the Governor, and he almost gasped from the stunning realization that if James was going to do anything, it would certainly not be anything against Elizabeth. And what would be possibly _less _against her than something _she_ had actually suggested? And since Elizabeth had most probably suggested what Jack Sparrow wanted... Governor Swann wrinkled his forehead in grim amazement. Jack Sparrow had _known _that. He _had _voted for somebody who would do what he wanted him to do...

The Governor looked at Jack, torn between a faint feeling of appreciation, and a stronger feeling of fear, or rather the realization that fear would be a very appropriate feeling... Despite his ridiculously jocular behaviour, and nonchalant manner, the man was dangerous. And it suddenly occurred to the Governor him that his daughter's feelings were not the subject to his consent, or even her own consent, for that matter. Her feelings were at that man's disposal, and he could do whatever he wanted with them. And if his own feelings were not sincere, he could destroy her frighteningly easily, shatter her completely. And even if they were sincere... maybe it would have been, or _was –_ he thought as he watched Jack pulling Elizabeth closer, wrapping his arm protectively around her – actually worse, because sincere feelings did not equal good intentions...

Governor Swann knitted his eyebrows. He just wanted to protect his daughter. He had to protect her. Yet, he was not sure what or whom he should protect her from...

He watched them whispering to each other with blurry eyes, and impish smiles on their faces.

"_Miss Spwann" _flew across his thoughts, and for the first time the most ridiculous idea crossed his mind that perhaps... they _both _needed protecting...

* * *

He did not really know why he had said what he had said... Why he had ordered the war to start on the next day. Was it the pleading look in Elizabeth's eyes? His own wish to limit his own choices? An inward urge to cut off his way out? Now it was impossible to return with the ship to Beckett. Unless he would start the fight with the pirates, and then switch sides in the middle of the battle...

_Didn't you switch sides already?... Once... Twice... Enough?..._

...or he could stay on the side on which he was now... Either way, his plan concerning securing Elizabeth and the Governor's safety had gone to pieces.

He weighed his options while he was being led to the table...

That was another thing he did not really know... How from the furious outrage the attitudes of the people around him turned into the attitudes of sheer amusement and good humor. Some strangely-looking musicians appeared out of the blue, drinks and food was served, people talked and laughed.

He was glad to be seated next to Governor Swann, although there was an awkward moment of silence between them before they began to talk. And even then, the Governor's attention was often drawn to something behind James' back, and at some point he had give in to his curiosity, and looked over his shoulder.

Elizabeth stood with Jack's arm around her, as if they were going to dance, but not quite... It seemed as if they were learning to dance, although it was not clear who was teaching whom. Elizabeth was staring at her feet, her loose hair cascading over her shoulders which were shaking slightly, as if... No, not as if. She was actually laughing, even though she seemed to be struggling not to. Jack kept one of his hands around her waist, keeping her hand in his other hand, and saying something apparently very amusing, a smile playing about his lips. Elizabeth's hand on his shoulder clutched the fabric of his shirt tightly, and when he suddenly pulled her closer she looked up abruptly, her lips colliding with his chin, before their eyes met, and before... Will Turner joined them, having finally made his way through the crowd. He seemed very irritated, and was saying something in a loud voice, even though the words could not be heard from the distance, due to the general noise. Jack and Elizabeth were looking at him strangely, as if he appeared virtually out of nowhere, and with no purpose whatsoever. They did not break their embrace, as if they had frozen in that position, their joined hands raised, fingers intertwined tightly. Elizabeth said something, and Will snorted sourly, his eyes narrowing in annoyance. Then he gestured toward her dress, and Elizabeth's face changed from mildly upset and fairly absent to a clearly irritated one. But then Jack Sparrow said something, and her eyes darted to him in disbelief, which was, however quickly replaced by a flash of a different emotion, and hardly perceptible smile flitted across her face as she bit her lip, and glanced at Will, who seemed to calm down a bit at that point. And then, to James', surprise, Jack led Elizabeth out of the Great Chamber, while Will made his way back to the table.

"Elizabeth went to change that dress," said Will solemnly, and sat down.

Gibbs let out a helpless sigh, and everybody looked at him. He quickly straightened up, cleared his throat, and smiled innocently. He was sure that it was only a matter of time before Will noticed that there was really something going on between Elizabeth and Jack. Gibbs glanced at Will who sat at the table rather calmly. Well, perhaps figuring it out would take the boy more time than it should, but still...

"Shall we take a walk outside?" the Governor addressed James after a longer moment of gloomy silence.

James cringed, suddenly being drag out of his reverie, out of his conflicting thoughts which were making less and less sense to him.

"Most definitely," he answered unsmilingly, rising to his feet.

They wordlessly left the table.

"Nothing good will come out of this," observed Barbossa, narrowing his eyes in grim annoyance as he watched the Governor and James walk away. "Making Beckett's pawn the Pirate King," he snarled, reaching hastily for his mug. "I'll be surprised if we won't have them all on our backs before the sunrise."

"I don't think he would deliberately put the Governor and Miss Elizabeth in danger," countered Gibbs cautiously. "An' he has a rightfully obtained Piece of Eight-"

"Rightfully obtained," Barbossa smiled sarcastically. "He killed Sao Feng to take his place. He has his own plans."

"And Jack doesn't?" Will shot him a humorlessly sardonic look.

Barbossa smiled wryly. "If I were ye, Mr. Turner, I'd rather worry 'bout Jack's plans."

"What is that supposed to mean?" asked Will with a frown.

Barbossa laughed dryly under his breath, reached for an apple, and sat back in his chair, leaving the question unanswered.

* * *

"I should return with the ship and lead the army here," said James in a hollow tone of voice, his hands clasped behind his back, his eyes fixed on the late afternoon sun. He felt better after telling the Governor about what had happened on the _Empress_, about his doubts triggered by the overheard words, his hesitation as to what he should do now.

"Should you?" Governor Swann smiled faintly.

James turned to him. "Is this that easy? Changing the sides overnight? Should I fight against my own past, tomorrow? Why? I don't even know who holds the truth in this war, anymore," he added in a low voice, and looked away.

"That is not the matter of truth," answered the Governor pensively. "And there is no side to choose. All choices available are wrong."

James shifted his eyes to him. "They don't stand a chance. Not with so many ships. Not with so much hatred. Not with Cutler Beckett taking the victory for granted."

"Taking something for granted did not help anybody achieve anything yet," replied the Governor, smiling weakly.

James' brows furrowed. "Governor? Are you-"

In that moment, the door opened, and two people ran out of the building and onto the verandah, unaware of the two men standing and talking just a few feet away.

"Where are we going?" asked Elizabeth in an amused voice, and James stiffened, casting a look at the Governor, who stared at the pair.

Jack pulled Elizabeth close, and whispered with a roguish smile. "I'm not telling. Got to trust me, luv."

She laughed, and wrapped her arms around his neck. "They will be looking for us," she said quietly, looking him deeply in the eyes.

Jack tucked a few strands of hair behind her ear. "Looking doesn't equal finding, does it?"

Elizabeth giggled, amused by the strange, sudden impression that the longer she looked at him, the more difficult it was for her to breathe. He propped her chin with his hand, and softly pressed his lips to her. She smiled, and kissed him.

No sooner widened the Governor's eyes than James unsheathed his sword, and started forward.

Elizabeth and Jack broke the kiss at the sudden noise.

"Ye do know that if ye'll treat yer voters like this, ye'll never get reelected," said Jack wrinkling his forehead, and eyeing suspiciously the blade pressed to his neck.

James face remained stony. "I do not recall wishing to be _ever_ elected," he said coolly, looking at Jack, and unable to look at Elizabeth, the image of the two of them in the hallway flashing across his mind.

"James, this is ridiculous, take this away!" ordered Elizabeth irritatedly, glaring at him, suddenly aware of the rays of the setting sun warm on her face.

"I'm sorry, Elizabeth, but I will not have any man assaulting a woman in my presence."

Elizabeth sighed audibly. "Do I look like I'm being assaulted?" she asked through her gritted teeth.

To her stupefaction, James' swift reply was: "Yes."

She blinked, Jack chuckled, sincerely amused, and looked at Elizabeth with a smile. James narrowed his eyes at Jack.

"I really don't think that all of that is necessary," the Governor finally broke into the argument.

James glanced at him doubtfully. "I think it is," he said with remote conviction, not removing his sword from Jack's neck. Then, suddenly Elizabeth pushed Jack to the side, and his sword was left in the air, aimed at nothing.

"I would've never thought of that," said Jack with a smile, his eyes fixed on Elizabeth, and for a moment he thought that he would never be able to avert his eyes from her. She looked dazzling in that bright carmine dress, her hair in slight disarray, glowing in the orange sunlight, her eyes incandescent with emotions. She smiled, and he had to dig his nails very hard into his palms in order to keep himself from sweeping her in his arms, and kissing her madly, her father and the angry Pirate King watching or not.

"Elizabeth-" James started, but she interrupted him.

"I think that before you start judging other people's integrity, you should examine your own," she said, looking him straight in the eye, memories flooding over her, and for a moment she felt as if she was drowning in that past that she had hoped to bury forever, drowning in the ashes of her sins, her sins triggered by the sins of others.

"Ye don't happen to carry any means of redemption with ye, do ye?" added Jack, looking him up and down, and squinting.

"The heart of Davy Jones is aboard the _Flying Dutchman_, if that's what you're asking, Captain," said James evenly after a pause.

"Ah," Jack smiled. "Very crafty torture. But not a very original one. The world has always been based on the principle of allowing ye to have everything ye want to have out of yer reach, and everything ye want to get rid of as close to ye as possible."

"I do not choose my orders," answered James in a firm, resolute voice.

"But ye choose yer _orderers_," retorted Jack with a small, sly smile.

"My conscience is my only _orderer_, Captain Sparrow."

"Causes ye much trouble, as of late, it seems." Jack narrowed his eyes, and James opened his mouth to reply, but Jack continued. "An' yet still less than it should."

The Governor listened to the conversation in silence, his eyes shifting between the two men, and Elizabeth who stood with her eyes fixed on Jack.

"I wonder how much trouble does your conscience causes you. Not much, I imagine."

"I wish we could stop this pointless discussion," Elizabeth cut in impatiently, before Jack had the time to retort. She was running out of time, and she could almost feel the minutes slipping through her fingers.

James looked at her a bit startled by her manners.

"Perhaps we should go back inside," suggested the Governor, receiving a slightly surprised look from James, who wondered why the Governor was not more upset about the entire situation.

Jack and Elizabeth's faces fell, and if it was not for the generally troublesome circumstances, and his predominantly grim mood at the moment, the Governor would have certainly found their facial expressions... funny.

"With that... pirate dead I don't think there is any need for altering our behaviour any further, is there?" Governor Swann looked between Jack and Elizabeth.

"Well," Jack cleared his throat, "I actually think that for safety purposes it would be better to keep up appearances," he said cautiously.

Elizabeth bit back a smile, and looked at her father expectantly.

The Governor looked at them for a moment before replying. "I do not have anything against keeping up appearances for safety purposes. In my presence," he added in the same, blank tone, but with an extremely serious expression in his eyes.

Elizabeth dropped her gaze to the ground, curious as to Jack's facial expression at the moment, but despite that she decided not to look at him right now, certain that she would not have been able to keep a straight face seeing him pout.

* * *

The silence was so thick and dark that it seemed to encompass and absorb everything around it... and within it, there was nothing but the lack of sounds and colors... the unfathomable exhaustion of light...

Faint flickers of black candles cast amorphous, shivering shadows on the walls, outlining the silence with livid liveliness.

When the wind tugged on the pallid light, in the cold breaths of semi-sable air it was possible to see a flash of the endless rows of doors, the uncountable number of corridors; the days and nights of the past and the future locked away and yet frighteningly accessible in their forced vulnerability, their inexorable remoteness.

A figure clad in grey walked along the mockingly, briefly lustrous darkness, hands cold from anticipation, eyes fixed on nothing and everything around.

Stopping in front of a mirror, he smiled palely at his non-visible reflection, and reached for a small, black, encrusted with silver and gold box. He lifted the lid, took a silver medallion out of the box, opened it and nimbly slid a miniature drawing out of it, replacing it with another drawing. With a faint smile, he glanced at the clock, closed the medallion, and put it back into the box. Hopefully, that was the last time he had to change the picture. Hopefully, he had eventually found a woman worth accompanying death...

Forever.

He closed his colorless eyes. It should not take long for her heart to die. Hearts always die first.

Twenty years... A hardly perceptible, cold smile flitted across his lips. After twenty years she will not even remember that she ever had a heart.

...If she will even remember about it after mere twenty _days_ in Maelstrom of Time...

* * *

Elizabeth and Jack felt almost as if they were being escorted to the Great Chamber by Governor Swann and James. Jack found it rather amusing, although what amused him most was Elizabeth's apparent irritation caused by the entire situation. But he was mistaken as to exact reason of her irritation. What he was taking for her simple wish to be alone with him, was in fact grim desperation that she had only a few hours before she would be gone from his life forever. Twenty years was a long time, and she would have been lucky if he even remembered her name after such a long absence... Not to mention-

She bit her lip, dismissing all those nagging thoughts. They did not matter. What mattered was here and now, those few hours with him... And she was not going to let anybody take those hours away from her. She did not care what anybody would think anymore. What would Will think. She had nothing to lose, and so many things to say and do before dawn...

She also had to find the way to say good-bye to her father... without making him suspicious, without causing him pain... Even though she did not know what she could possibly say to him... What should she tell him? Would it be better for him to think her dead, or only missing? Should she leave him a letter? Should she tell him the truth in that letter, or merely express her feelings?

Jack opened the door to the Great Chamber, and elaborately motioned for Elizabeth to walk in. She narrowed her eyes at him playfully, and entered the room, which seemed to be even noisier and crowded than before. She immediately caught the sight of Will who had been staring at the door impatiently, and she noticed his mouth twitch, apparently upon noticing that she had not changed the carmine dress.

"I want to dance," Elizabeth swirled around, almost bumping into Jack who was right behind her.

The Governor and James stopped in their tracks, but she did not even glance at them, her eyes fixed on Jack, shining with determination.

"Will be my pleasure," Jack caught her hand. "Gentlemen," he bowed his head lightly at Governor Swann and James, and careful not to give them enough time to react, led Elizabeth to the part of the room where people were dancing to a merry tune.

"I like yer attitude as of late, 'Lizbeth," Jack whispered into Elizabeth's ear, wrapping his arm around her waist, and pulling her close.

Elizabeth slid her hands over his shoulders, locking them behind his neck. "I thought you liked my attitude in general," she said with a small smile, tilting her head to the side, and glancing at his lips.

Jack smirked, trying to take his eyes off her lips. "That I did an' do, but I have to say that yer recent treatment of certain people is particularly appealing."

"Mistreatment, you mean," said Elizabeth with a smile, leaning her forehead against his.

He chuckled, and closed his eyes. "Well-deserved," he muttered. Elizabeth watched his face, his closed eyes. How would it feel to be waking up to this sight every morning?...

She closed her eyes as well, and neither of them noticed that they stopped dancing, and were just standing in an embrace among the cheerfully hollering, chaotically dancing people.

"Jack?"

"Yes, luv?"

She smiled, and pursed her lips to kiss his. "Today is going to be the favorite day of my life," she said quietly.

He opened his eyes, and looked at her. "May I inquire as to why would ye be inclined to think so?" he asked, tightening his embrace, wondering why the cool silk of the dress felt all of a sudden so hot under his palms.

"I just know it," she replied with a small shrug, trying to imagine, without opening her eyes, how far from hers were his lips at the moment, and wishing that he would-

He kissed her fervidly without commenting on her statement, cradling her face in his hands, impassioned by the trust in her kisses, by the way in which she clung to him, as if she did not want to ever be anywhere else in the world...

Elizabeth broke the kiss to drew a quick breath, and kissed him again, ardently; each kiss snatched away from darkness, surreptitiously stolen from the time which was fleeing from her, dragging her away from his mouth, his hands, his words...

"I want to be yours," she blurted out, pulling away. His eyes snapped open. "Tonight."

He blinked, and she had a strange impression that the light visible in his eyes after the first part of her sentence was gone after the second part. He looked at her in silence which seemed to deafen the noise around them.

"What if," he started at last, and she held her breath. "I don't want you." She froze. "_Tonight_," he added almost mockingly, looking at her so seriously, that she felt cold shivers running up her spine.

She wrinkled her forehead, and was about to say something, when suddenly Will appeared next to them, having eventually made his way through the crowd.

"Elizabeth!"

She turned her head on an impulse, but then she felt Jack letting go of her, and when she looked at him again he was already two steps away.

"Ah, there ye are. A pleasant evening to ye both, then. I shall see ye in the morning," he flashed them a half-smile that did not reach his eyes, and shooting a seemingly blank look at Elizabeth hastily turned around, and walked away.

Elizabeth followed him with her eyes wide from bewilderment. _What the hell is he doing?! Where does he think he's going?!_

"Elizabeth?" Will placed his hand on her shoulder, but she shrugged it off rather abruptly.

"I'm sorry," she said quickly noticing his grimly surprised facial expression. "I-"

"What is going on, Elizabeth?" he interrupted her in a frustratingly calm voice.

"Nothing," she shook her head, shifting her eyes between him and Jack who walked all the way to the door, opened it, walked out, and slammed it shut behind him. Elizabeth cringed, even though she could not hear the slamming noise from where she stood, surrounded by loud music, and even louder voices.

"You haven't changed the dress," said Will cautiously, trying to find a subject that would actually draw her attention to their conversation. She seemed to be thinking about a thousand things...

"We haven't find a different dress," she answered evenly, feverishly searching her thoughts for an excuse that would allow her to go after Jack without having Will - or anybody else for that matter - following her.

"I'm sorry about what I've said before," he said in a low voice. "You look beautiful," he smiled at her faintly, and her heart clenched.

But despite a sudden rush of guilt and sadness she could hardly hear anything else but ticking of some invisible clock, the sound growing louder and louder in her head.

"Will," she clutched his shirt sleeve, and looked him deeply in the eyes. "I can't go on like this. I tried not to think about it, but it just doesn't work." He wanted to interrupt her, but she cut him off. "Ever since that day I can't live with myself. I feel so awful, so terribly awful. I killed him," she whispered, and Will blinked. "I need to..." she trailed off, and looked away. "I need to apologize to him. I need to talk to him. Please-" she shifted her eyes back to him.

"Is kissing him a part of... apology making?" asked Will, looking at her sternly, his voice colder, and his tone more suspicious than she had expected.

"Of course not," she snapped through her gritted teeth, looking Will straight in the eye, lies flowing so gracefully that she was on the verge of believing them herself. "That was because of Sao Feng. This is different. It's about how I feel with myself, what I think of myself. I need him to tell me if he will hate me forever, or if perhaps he could forgive me..." She looked at the floor, and then up at Will again. "Will you help me?"

Will blinked. "How?" he asked, baffled. "In what?"

"Just make sure my father or James won't start looking for me. I need to have the time to... to... to talk without interruptions. Please. Could you do that for me?" she risked a small smile, sliding her hand from his shirt sleeve into his hand.

He closed her hand in his and squeezed it. "Alright," he said quietly, hardly knowing what he was saying, and what it was exactly what she had asked him to do. It was all very strange, but her sincerity made it nigh impossible to doubt her motives... What else could she have meant, after all? It must have been just what she had said it was. Nothing else, nothing more...

"Thank you," she smiled at him brightly, stood on her tiptoes, and kissed him on the cheek, before fleeing noiselessly away from him. He listlessly watched her hurrying out of the room, having a nagging feeling that something bad was going to happen... did happen... was happening... would happen...

Or perhaps he was just tired after too many sleepless nights.

"_Once we rescue Jack everything will be fine."_

Maybe once she apologize everything will be fine again. Maybe she just needed to have her conscience clear. And that was something he could understand...

* * *

Elizabeth ran across the hallway, looking around, and hoping that Jack had not gone too far. If he had, there was no way she could find him in the tangled web of intersecting corridors. She turned around the corner, and stopped. Another empty corridor, another raw of doors. How was she supposed to know where should she go? It was so easy to get lost if there were too many paths to choose from...

She noticed a tall door with a gold knob at the end of the hallway, and quickly approached it. The knob shone faintly in the dimly lit corridor. Maybe it was another Great Chamber, or a Dining Chamber... It was worth a try. She knocked, but did not hear any answer, so she pushed the door open, and just walked inside.

"I'm sorry," she said quickly upon noticing a man sitting in an armchair by the window. When he shifted his eyes from his guitar to her, she recognized Teague, and smiled faintly. "I'm sorry," she repeated, scanning the room out of the corner of her eye, and finding it empty except for him. She swirled around, ready to leave, but his voice, low and dark stopped her.

"Lookin' for somebody, darlin'?"

She turned around, looking at him hesitantly. Perhaps she could ask him... She did not have much to lose. Keeping up appearances was no longer relevant. "I'm looking for Jack," she said simply, trying to keep her voice from faltering.

Teague tilted his head to the side, and for a moment just looked at her. "I venture he's lookin' for ye too," he said at last, slightly narrowing his eyes.

Elizabeth smiled briefly. "I don't think so," she said quietly. "I might have said something stupid..."

"_You_ might've said somethin' stupid?" he echoed, a glimpse of amusement flickering in his eyes.

Elizabeth bit her lip, and nodded.

"Well, if ye really did say somethin' stupid, it only means that he didn't say the right thing afore," said Teague in a low voice, his eyes, lightened with sudden interest, fixed on her face.

"I killed him," she blurted out, clenching her fists, feeling both terrified and freed by that sense of no future, by that feeling that she had nothing to lose, that she could say anything – even the truth! – and it absolutely did not matter, it would have no consequences, she would not have to endure the aftermath of honesty for too long.

"So I've heard," said Teague calmly, almost sweeping her off her feet with his answer.

She blinked, baffled. How could he know about it? From whom? When?

"I love him," she whispered.

Teague smiled. "So I see," he said slowly. Elizabeth inhaled deeply, not knowing what to- "There are stairs around the corner near this door. Third story, fourth door to the right. It used to be his room. He might be there."

Elizabeth exhaled, and smiled brokenly. "Thank you," she said, and hastily swirled around, leaving the room in a hurry.

* * *

Jack walked into a room, and slammed the door shut behind him. He groaned, upset to no end by the fact that he was upset. What was he upset about anyway? How could he possibly be upset about _that_?! It was beyond his comprehension at the moment to understand why her statement infuriated him so.

"_Tonight_," he muttered, and groaned again, trying to take his hat off his head, only to find it... missing. It must have stayed in the Great Chamber along with his coat. "Bugger," he looked around the room in an attempt to see if there was anything that he could possibly break, or shatter, or _destroy_.

Why had he even walked away? Why hadn't he just smiled, and consented? She had seemed so terrifyingly serious... He felt shivers running up his spine at the thought. She was serious, she really wanted... he really could... they could have...

He huffed irritatedly, and quickly disposed if his shirt, throwing it angrily at the window. The shirt slid to the floor which irritated him even more.

"_Tonight." _And then what? Then she would marry _him_? Maybe right in the morning? Right at dawn? How _romantic _that would be.

He snorted, sat on the bed, and tugged off his shoes, throwing one of them into the half-open wardrobe, and the other at the wall.

What did she want? Did she think that it was what he wanted? Did she just really want to obtain his forgiveness? Did she think- He hid his face in his hands, and sighed deeply. He was tired of this all, of all these thoughts. For a moment he thought that there was something... Everything was going so well, she was so... sweetly sincere, so... close... to him, so near, so... transparent...

Unless he was only imagining all those things, unless she was only playing some kind of game. As always. He uncovered his face with a bitter smile, and shook his head, his facial expression hardening.

He should have had her walk the plank. As soon as she had woken up. He should have never-

As soon as she had woken up...

Suddenly, his strange dreams sprung to his mind. His dreams, and her words... that she had had the same dreams...

Why did she always have to ruin everything?! Why-

The knock on the door startled him, and he looked up abruptly, wrinkling his forehead in grim puzzlement. Who could possibly know that he was here? Surely Teague did not decide to pay him a visit and have some kind of father and son totally unneeded conversation.

He staggered to his feet, and without uttering a word pulled the door open, and... froze.

"_What are ye doing here?" _was the question that immediately came to his mind, and yet, for some mysterious reason he did not say it... Instead, he just stared at her in silence for a moment, and then all of a sudden, catching her off guard, he grabbed her hand, and pulled her toward him. Elizabeth gasped, when he slammed her rather unceremoniously against the wall, inching his lips to hers.

"What if I wouldn't want ye for tonight," he whispered hoarsely through his gritted teeth, and Elizabeth swallowed, feeling the grasp of his hands on her forearms tightening. "What if I would want ye for _every_ bloody night," he said, and she blinked, repeating his sentence to herself over and over again in amazement. "Would ye be capable of understanding that, or not?" he demanded in a low voice, his eyes dark and unreadable.

"Would you?" she asked sharply, but quietly, and he grimaced in impatient puzzlement."Would you be capable of understanding that..." she trailed off, took a deep breath, and whispered, "that I love you."


	35. Chapter 35

A/N: _**Thank you very much for all the fantastic reviews! **_**:)**

... & one short announcement: my finals are about to begin, so please be patient with me until mid-June! :)

... & dear sparrabethforever & everybody else who might be interested in an answer for this question: I don't really know yet if there will be a sequel to _HWMB?_... Although I'm actually leaning more toward a series of one-shots rather than a full-length sequel:)

Disclaimer: Disney owns PotC.

**Chapter 35**

The window was ajar, and perhaps that was why she could hear the soft humming of the sea outside. Although it was probable that even with the window closed, she could have still heard it... It was so quiet in the room... So quiet, she was not sure she could endure another moment of silence.

Jack's hold on her forearms did not loosen, his mouth did not twitch, his eyes remained unreadable.

Elizabeth looked at him unsmilingly, anxiously, with glassy eyes, feeling as if she was falling down, faster, and faster, and still further away from him, from light, from-

But then he caught her.

"I've never wanted anything more than hearing those words from you," he whispered, anger and irritation gone from his tone, leaving only the sound of his voice, clear and timid.

Elizabeth blinked, and exhaled sharply, afraid to smile. He slid his hand from her forearm up to her shoulder, her neck, and cupped the side of her face, stroking her cheek with his thumb as if she was a newly recovered, lost treasure, the look in his eyes gradually losing its clearness, and becoming darker, warmer.

He leaned down, and buried his face in her neck, his voice low and ardent, his breath hot on her skin. "Say it again," he whispered, encircling her waist with his other hand, and pulling her closer to him.

"I love you," she repeated, enchanted by the need, by vulnerability in his voice. She closed her eyes, and smiled.

There was a sound that she could not quite identify, and she was not sure if it was a snort, a sob, or... did he laugh?...

But she did not dare to demand an explanation, did not dare to breathe, or move, when his lips started trailing a path across her neck, soft and warm like the rays of the sun that was setting outside, slowly vanishing into the cobalt ocean.

_My last sunset._

"Lizzie, Lizzie," he murmured, and she pressed her cheek to his chest, clinging to him, drowning in his voice. "I dreamt of this... of you... since... I don't even remember since when," he tilted his head backwards, and gently propped her chin with his hand, cupping the side of her face with his palm, and looking at her intensely.

She leaned into his touch, and nuzzled his hand. "I thought you hated me," she whispered, and moved her lips to kiss his palm, but then all of sudden his lips caught hers, and he kissed her, closing his arms around her, pressing her against him as close as possible, while his lips fought for control over the kiss, over her mind, her heart; over her.

"I tried," he whispered, gasping for air, with a glimpse of mischief in his eyes, his eyes which were as sparkling as the future that she knew they did not have.

She smiled at him. "You don't hate me?" she asked, mildly surprised that she did not mind that he apparently wanted to taunt her some more before telling her... If he was going to tell her _that_ at all. What made her think he was going to? What made her feel as if he had already said it...

He looked at her, and she could see a small, roguish smile hovering over his lips, and she thought that she would miss that smile, she would miss that smile so much that it already hurt more than she knew she could possibly endure.

"I will," he said quite seriously, and her eyes widened, but then he rested his forehead against hers, and murmured. "If ye won't stop askin' stupid questions. As if ye didn't know," he tilted his head to the side, and very softly kissed her lips, first her upper lip, and the the bottom one.

"Know what?" she inhaled deeply, pressing her lips to his before he pulled away. She felt a smile forming on his lips when she kissed him.

"Lizzie," a mock threat in his voice made her smile despite the tears that were gathering behind her eyelids. She had thought that it would have made it easier for her to leave if he forgave her, or if she knew that he felt something for her, but now she was not sure anymore... Now she thought that it would only make everything worse. How could she leave him if- How was she going to survive without him, knowing that he would... he could... he... did...

"If you answer me this question," she started, wrapping her arms around his neck, and cautiously opening her eyes, and managing to keep the tears at bay. "I will answer any question you want-" he opened his mouth to speak, but she silenced him with a brief kiss before finishing, "and my answer will be _yes_."

Jack blinked. "Whatever I ask ye the answer will be 'yes'?" he repeated, amused, combing her hair with his fingers, half of his mind engrossed in constant marvelling at the very fact that she was here with him, in his arms, with her eyes fixed on him, and her lips inches away from his.

Elizabeth nodded, bringing one of her hands to his face, and exploring it with her fingertips, and for a moment he just stood motionlessly watching her, and she thought that she had never imagined a more beautiful feeling than the feeling of just being near him, as if happiness was sprinkled all over his skin, and when she touched him it would soak through her skin, and into her.

"Alright," he said at last, and to her surprise took her hands off his face. "I'll answer yer question, and then ye'll answer mine with 'yes'. Is that the agreement?"

She smiled, puzzled and intrigued by his repeated attempts to make sure that she was really going to answer his question in affirmative. She had already made the most important confession, what else would he want her to tell him? "Yes," she said, slightly narrowing her eyes, and turning her hands in his in such a way to take hold of his wrists, but he quickly grabbed her wrists with his hands, and backed her against the wall, closing the gap between them, and pressing his body so close to hers that she could feel his heartbeat in her chest. Then, before she had the time to say anything, he took her mouth in a hard, fiery kiss, leaving her dazed and breathless, fragile and vulnerable in his arms.

And it did not help her recover, when he whispered against her lips. "I don't hate ye, Lizzie Sparrow."

She opened her eyes, and smiled, even though it was not _exactly_ what she wanted to hear... "Lizzie Sparrow?" she echoed uncertainly after a moment of just looking at him, subconsciously waiting for him to say something else, something more... But then suddenly she understood what he had just said, the name sounding so natural that she had not noticed at first...

He swallowed, and squinted. "Yer turn, luv. My question."

She wanted to kiss him, but he tilted his head to the side, and her lips collided with his cheek. He lowered his head to plant a kiss on her neck.

"Will ye marry me?" He asked so quickly, so quietly, and yet in a such a resolute and ardent tone of voice, that she froze in his arms with her hands splayed on his back.

He waited. _Too patiently to be joking_, thought Elizabeth, half-elated, half-terrified.

"Jack..." she started, and he looked up at her abruptly, his eyes darkly, calmly wary. "You're not serious, are you?"

He stopped twirling a lock of her hair around his finger, and tangling his hand in her hair pushed her lips onto his, and kissed her with fire-igniting fierceness, not letting go of her even when she tried to break the kiss to breathe. He just allowed her to take a quick intake of breath, and then his lips claimed hers again.

"I don't know what it is," he whispered at last, in a dark, humming voice, his lips still pressed to hers, far enough to speak, close enough to kiss. "But ye're the only person in the entire world that I don't want to be free..." She felt his hand travelling up and down her back, his fingernails scraping on the silk of her dress. " I want you to be mine." She met his eyes, breathless from his gaze, his words, his touch. "I want to lock ye up in me heart, so ye couldn't escape, so ye couldn't choose anybody and anything over me again."

"Jack-" she breathed, trying to interrupt him, startled by what he was saying as much as by the tone of his voice. There was no bitterness in his tone, no resentment, or anger, or irony. There was only the melody of his voice, soothing and heart-wrenching at the same time, and she doubted if he had ever been that honest before. Not with her, at least...

But it was precisely that overwhelmingly sweet simplicity of his confession that was tearing her apart, breaking her heart into thousand pieces, because his sincerity was going to be wasted. He was telling her what she wanted to hear, to _know _for so long only to see her gone with the rays of the morning sun.

It was too late. And yet she could not find it in herself to stop him, to tell him that there was no sense... to make up another excuse, or simply run away from him once again before he would say too much to ever forgive her that he said it only to find her gone soon after.

_He will miss me... _she thought blankly, hopelessly trying not to burst out crying, not to ruin that last evening with him.

"Shhh," he pressed his lips to hers, cutting her off. "Don't say anything. I know ye're sorry, I know ye didn't, ye wouldn't. I know that," he placed several quick, warm kisses along her lips. "But it doesn't matter, ye see. Even if ye would... I got too far, lost too much, sank too deep..." he trailed off, when she returned his kisses, outlining his lips with hers. "Just don't lie to me," he continued, in a low, vanishing voice. "To me ye can't lie 'cause I know ye like ye don't know yerself, I may not know the truth, but I know when ye lie. Don't lie to m-"

She kissed him to silence him, but he did not try to break the kiss to continue talking. Tightening his embrace, he crashed her against him and deepened the kiss.

What was she supposed to tell him? That it was all a lie? Except for her feelings... except for her love for him it was all a lie. This evening, this promise enclosed in her coming to him, this night that was going to be mercilessly terminated by sunlight...

"Are ye tryin' to evade givin' me an answer, luv?" he asked, breaking the kiss, and narrowing his eyes in a small, roguish smile.

Elizabeth brushed her lips against his. Could she do that to him? If he really meant it... Could she marry him and then disappear without a trace? Would it be fair to him? She could not tell him the truth, so he would be left with only her strange, sudden, unexplainable disappearance.

Not to mention, that she was not entirely certain that he was not taking her in...

Still, she did not want anything more than marry him. And if he was serious... Maybe it would make him remember her? Maybe if they were married he would still remember her after twenty years, and perhaps she could talk to him one day... Even if his feelings would be gone by then...

But it was selfish. Her consent would by nothing by a selfish act-

"_To act on an selfish impulse..."_

And yet... perhaps... he did not expect from her more than that...

"_Pirate."_

"I thought we established it before, that my answer was going to be 'yes', no matter the question," she looked at him, expecting him to laugh at her at any moment. Perhaps in different circumstances she would have been more cautious, she would not have risked being laughed at. But now that she had merely several hours, it did not matter if he was going to laugh at her or not. She did not have much time to feel embarrassed or humiliated.

"Ah, but ye see, Lizzie," he smiled, a slow, and thoughtful smile, and she leaned into his touch when he cupped her cheek with his hand. "The question _does _matter."

She kissed his palm, and closed her eyes, screaming from despair in her head. "I wish I could always be with you," she said, carefully choosing the words, trying to tell him as much of the truth as possible.

"'Lizbeth," he took her face in his hands, and her eyes snapped open at the urgency in his voice. "Will ye marry me now, or not?" he asked with pretended sharpness, and she blinked, her eyes glassy from the tears that were threatening to flow. "Lizzie," he wrinkled his forehead, humor in his eyes replaced with worry so genuine that Elizabeth had to bit her lip to stifle a sob.

"Yes," she whispered, cuddling against him, and kissing him quickly on the lips.

He pulled away, looked at her for a moment intently, but then seeing her smile he smiled as well. "Let's go, then," he said, glancing around the room to locate his carelessly discarded shirt. He went to get it without letting go of her hand, keeping it clasped tightly in his.

"You're serious," she whispered more to herself than to him, watching him put on his shirt in one swift movement, and then quickly reaching for her hand again, and pulling her into an embrace.

"I've never been more serious in my life," he said with his eyes wandering all over her face in wonder that made her heart clench while simultaneously setting it on fire. "Or death, for that matter," he added, wiggling his eyebrows, and for a moment she thought that she could tell him _everything_, that she should tell him the truth about the 'dreams', that perhaps that would have been better...

But something was holding her back from telling him. Telling him would break the spell of the moment, steal the time they had left, and she did not want to spend the next few hours bragging about how she had saved him...

She smiled at him brightly, and he smiled at her.

No matter what was going to happen in the morning, she still had that evening, and that night, and it was more than she had even wished for only a few days ago. A few days ago she had thought that everything ended. Jack was dead. She would never erase that image of him from her mind, his pale lips, his closed eyes, his motionless - so dreadfully, impossibly motionless body...

She leaned into him, and kissed him, but he quickly broke the kiss, and with a mischievous smile pulled her with him out of the room, and into the corridor.

"Are we going to the _Black Pearl_?" asked Elizabeth, as they ran, faster than necessary, across the corridors, and down the stairs, their steps carelessly loud, childishly rushed.

Jack stopped so abruptly, that she almost lost her balance, but he caught her in his arms before she could fall. "No," he whispered, and kissed her fervently, his coarse lips making her shiver in his arms so hard that he had to keep his arms firmly around her to make sure that she would not lost her balance once again.

And Elizabeth thought, not for the first time, that it was all not really happening, because it was too sudden and beautiful to be really happening, and perhaps, paradoxically, the cold memory of the dawn to come was the only proof that those enthralling moments were real...

"So where are we going?" she asked, when they were running again, her hand clasped in his, and she held onto his hand with all the strength she had, even though she knew that he would not let her hand go, that he would not let her go...

... if he could help it.

Jack did not answer, but instead dragged her into one of the rooms, and quickly scanned the surroundings. "Ah!" he smiled upon noticing something that he was apparently looking for.

Elizabeth watched curiously as he took a piece of paper from the desk that stood by the window, opened an inkwell, and dipped a quill in it.

A thought crossed her mind - _again_ - that perhaps he was not serious about marrying her, after all. The _Black Pearl _was the only place where they could get married, because he could perform a ceremony there, so if they were not going there... Maybe he was just going to write down some mock vows, and turn it all into a humorous event... She could not really blame him for that. She had never thought that he would marry her, not only because of what she had done, but also simply because of who he was...

And yet she felt a twinge of bitter regret at the realization that they were not really-

She was so deep in thought that she did not manage to read what Jack had written on the paper, and she was pulled out of her reverie only when they were already in the corridor again, heading for the Great Chamber.

"Jack," she started uncertainly, hoping that he was not going to do something stupid, like asking her father for her hand in marriage, for example.

And she scolded herself inwardly for once again both dreading the idea, and wishing for it to happen...

But to her puzzlement, Jack opened the door only slightly, and tugged on the sleeve of an apparently random person standing closest to the door. He pointed with his finger to something, and then gave the man the folded paper. The man nodded absently, and staggered as quickly as he could in his half-inebriated state toward the tables.

Jack closed the door as quietly as possible, and pulled Elizabeth away from it.

"Jack?" she was getting more and more confused, as they quickly got out of the building and onto the street. Fresh, sea-scented evening air engulfed her, and took her breath away for a moment. And Jack's lips that descended upon hers did little to help her breathe again.

"Oh, I know ye'd like to get married on the _Pearl_, luv. In the darkness and with no witnesses," he whispered teasingly with a glint of amusement in his eyes. Elizabeth stared at him in bafflement, her eyes shifting between his eyes, and his lips, unable to focus. He smirked at that, and leaned down, pressing her lips to her ear. "Unfortunately, I'm going to marry ye as lawfully as possible, so ye may forget about evading the aftermath of tonight, luv."

* * *

James sat at the table, watching the people in the room in silence, and with a deep frown on his face. He considered storming out of here as fast and as far away as possible, simultaneously finding himself strangely fascinated by the total chaos around him. The fascination was, of course, only another name for astonishment, and it did not include any traces of willingness to join the chaos, or even accept it. The fact of being in such a place was gruesome enough, and there was no reason for making it even more gruesome by considering becoming a part of it.

Not that he was not a part of it... being the Pirate King. James snorted inwardly, and ran his hands across his face with a sigh. He was tired. Maybe if he could get some sleep he could start thinking clearly again.

He rested his head in his hands, and looked around the room, glancing at Will Turner who was sitting at the table almost across from him listening to the conversation between Governor Swann and Gibbs. He looked so calm, and James wondered how much he had had to drink to look so calm when his fiancée was wandering around the place with Jack Sparrow. He must have been very sure of himself.

Or very stupid.

James shifted his eyes to the Governor, finding himself at loss of expressions. He did not know what to think about the Governor's compliance to the situation. His lack of resolute reaction had stunned him, and he still could not quite believe that Elizabeth's father was not outraged but the scene on the verandah that they had witnessed. He was not happy or content with it (_that _would have been truly startling), but he was far from being upset too, and it baffled James to no end.

"Mr. Gibbs," started the Governor, suddenly remembering something, and the conversation caught James' attention, even though in the noise of the room he could not catch all the words. "You have mentioned that..." Governor Swann hesitated, "Captain Sparrow," he said, at last deciding on what expression to use, "worked for... East India Trading Company, if I'm not mistaken?"

"Aye," Gibbs nodded, putting away his rum. "He did," he confirmed, a bit unhappy that the Governor actually remembered his little slip of information. He was not sure if Jack would appreciate him recounting that particular story...

"What happened?" asked the Governor cautiously after a pause, seeing that Gibbs was not going to continue on his own.

Gibbs sighed. "It's a complicated story," he said evasively.

The Governor looked at him for a moment, glanced at Will who was listening to the conversation, and then looked back at Gibbs, the intensity of his gaze adding reasons to the simple request, "I still would like to hear it." _I would like to hear a story of a man that my daughter loves with such frightening desperation._

Gibbs looked at the Governor, and the look in his eyes made the Governor think that even if Gibbs could not read his thoughts, he seemed to be very close to it.

"Aye," Gibbs nodded with a thoughtful half-smile, and began his story.

The Governor sat back in his chair, and listened, expecting an embellished tale about a rebellious youth, who - wearied of norms and social constraints, decided to seek a different life, a life freed of rules and responsibilities.

But the picture that he had painted in his mind long ago, only slightly altered by his latest observations, suddenly fell apart, and he wrinkled his forehead, and blinked, causing Gibbs to smile faintly at his reaction.

There was a rebellion. But it was not a rebellion _against_ anything – it was a rebellion _in defence_. There was no weariness, but vigor and courage, almost infantile idealism that for a moment stunned the Governor into silence, as it crossed his mind that even though he did consider slavery wrong, the possibility never presented itself to him that he actually could, or should, or might do anything about it. It was the order of the world he was living in; it _was_ the world he lived in, and it was not within his powers to try changing it. Was it?...

"Beckett branded him, then," said Gibbs squinting into the distance, and reaching for his newly refilled mug.

Will frowned, and looked away, glancing at the door, and wondering if he had done the right thing letting Elizabeth go with Jack... How much time would she need to make an apology?... Somehow the story about Jack's past had an unsettling effect on him.

Bootstrap was only half-listening to the story that he knew only too well. He was still overwhelmed by his own thoughts, trying to sort out his memories, and strange images that were aspiring to the status of memories... Slowly, everything was beginning to make sense...

...although the more clear his memory was becoming, the more bewildered he grew...

The Governor listened to the story in silence. Gibbs sighed, and shifted his eyes to him. "An' burned the _Pearl_," he said with a small, sad smile. "_Wicked Wench_, was her former name, before Jack dragged her back from the depths after having struck that deplorable deal with Jones."

"What deal?" asked the Governor in a low voice, gradually becoming more and more puzzled by the story. And, also, somewhere on the back of his mind, for some unknown reason relieved by it...

"He sold his soul for this ship," said Gibbs with a sigh. "That's how his debt to Jones came into being. That's why we were trying to find the chest that contained his heart," Gibbs glanced at James who had long time ago abandoned scanning the room, and was now openly listening to Gibbs' story, frown on his face deepening with every sentence. "To have something to bargain with. But was there ever a time in a man's life when things wouldn't go awry?" He shook his head with a weak smile, and took a swig of his rum.

The Governor wanted to ask something yet, but then a man came up to Gibbs, tapped him on the shoulder, and gave him a folded piece of paper. Gibbs looked at the man questioningly, but he only shrugged in response, and walked away rather unsteadily.

Gibbs rubbed his forehead in puzzlement, and unfolded the paper:

_Mr. Gibbs!_

_We (by which you should understand me and a very bonnie bonnie lass in me arms (that is I shall take her in me arms as soon as I finish writing this note)) would like to invite you to our bonnie wedding that will take place as soon as you will come to the chapel (use the front door), which you should do, or at least start doing as soon as you read this, as your presence is not only welcomed, otherwise desirable, but actually very urgently requested, and not (only) for your likeable personage, but first and foremost for your signature which you will be asked to place under the document as my best man. I do trust that you are sober enough to find another witness as well-behaved (I'd rather keep all my body parts with me for the next few dozen of years) as you._

_Take your own rum with you, as we won't be throwing a party just yet. (Although it'd be more thoughtful of you to bring flowers.)_

_Expecting you shortly. Off you go!_

_Impatiently,_

_Captain Groom and Beautiful Bride_

Gibbs blinked, staring at the letter with his mouth agape, and his eyes wide-open, only half-believing that what he had read was actually what he had read.

"Bad news?" Will looked at him concernedly, as did the Governor, and also James from across the table.

Gibbs blinked again, moving his mouth as if he was going to say something, but no words came out.

"Mr. Gibbs?" The Governor looked at Gibbs worriedly, startled by his rapidly paling face.

"No, no," Gibbs managed to mutter at last, nervously rubbing his forehead, his eyes glued to the letter which he was reading for the third time, and to his stupefaction each time he read it, the message was still unchangingly clear, and... unchanged. "I... I..." he looked around rather helplessly, and quickly staggered to his feet. "I have to go... I have something... I..." he said absently, scanning the Great Chamber in search of _well-behaved_ people, and finding no one trustworthy enough-

"They don't even have good apples here anymore," grumbled Barbossa coming back to the table from the farther part of the room, and looking at the red apple in his hand hatefully.

Gibbs almost gasped. "We have to go!" he exclaimed, grabbing astonished Barbossa by his coat sleeve, and pulling him away from the table.

"What the hell are ye doin'?!" Barbossa stared at him angrily, trying to snatch his coat out of his grasp, but Gibbs ignored his glare, as well as very confused looks that all the people at the table were giving him.

Of all the people that Gibbs could bring Barbossa seemed least threatening, that is least interested in causing trouble in that particular case. Taking Will along was impossible, taking Bootstrap would have been awkward, taking James mad, taking the Governor risky, and everybody else would have required to be given a long-winded explanation before they would go or do anything.

He was not sure if Jack would like this, but he just could not think of any better solution at the moment.

"Can ye tell me-" started Barbossa irately, but Gibbs cut him off, lowering his voice even though they were already a safe distance away from the tables.

"They want to get married," he said urgently in a conspirational whisper.

Barbossa wrinkled his forehead, and shook his head with a grimace. "What?" he asked, squinting.

"Jack and..." Gibbs lowered his voice even more, "Elizabeth. They want to get married."

Barbossa's lips stretched into a smile. "Now, that's news," he said, clearly amused. "Although I can't see what do I have to do with this," he added, looking at Gibbs questioningly.

Gibbs rolled his eyes. "Ye'll see," he said, urging Barbossa to head for the door, which he did, continuously snorting under his breath on their way to the chapel.


	36. Chapter 36

A/N: _**Thank you so much for all the beautiful reviews!!**_

Spoiler: The length of this chapter is dreadful and unusual, and it won't happen again, I promise! I just didn't want to make us wait any longer;)

Disclaimer: Jack, Elizabeth, etc. belong to Disney.

**Chapter 36**

Elizabeth was quite stunned by the fact that on a pirate island, in a pirate town there was such a charming little chapel. She looked around admiring beautiful decorations, glass windows, and candles brightening the dark interiors, while Jack went to fetch Father Gawain, whoever he was (as she doubted that he could be a real minister; although as she looked around the chapel, she was not sure anymore...)

Hugging herself, she smiled faintly at her red dress. It was not the most appropriate wedding dress. Her father would have been repulsed... if her knew. Would he ever find out?...

If she had more time she would insist on going to him... He would understand, after all she had told him, and after how he himself had interrupted her wedding with Will... He might have even come... maybe...

"I thought I'd rather see the end of the world, than you getting marr-" the minister stopped in mid-sentence when Elizabeth turned around at the sound of his voice.

Jack quickly walked up to her, and took her hand in his, pulling her toward the minister.

"Me bonnie bride, Lizzie Swann. Father Gawain, solely responsible for me having a Christian name," Jack made the introductions, smiling brightly, wrapping his arm around Elizabeth's hips, and thinking that he had never felt so _light_, so carefreein his life, and the thought was as exhilarating as unsettling.

"Bonnie, indeed," observed father Gawain with a chuckle, giving Elizabeth a warm smile.

She smiled back, draping her arm around Jack's waist. She could feel the warmth of his skin through the fabric of his shirt, the heat radiating from his body distorting her ability to concentrate for a moment. Subconsciously, she slid her hand under his shirt, and he smiled leaning down, and kissing the top of her head.

"Jack!"

Father Gawain looked up, and Jack and Elizabeth turned around at the sound of Gibbs' voice, although Jack's face fell slightly at the sight of Barbossa.

"Mr. Gibbs," he said with a hint of annoyance in his voice, his eyes fixed on Barbossa's irritatedly grinning face.

"I'm sorry, Jack. I didn't know whom to take," whispered Gibbs with an apologetic smile, glancing at Elizabeth who stood with her head resting on Jack's shoulder. "Sweet Lord, ye two are serious, aren't ye?" asked Gibbs, suddenly changing his tone of voice as the full realization hit him, his eyes shifting nervously between Captain Groom and Beautiful Bride.

"I'd appreciate observing the ten commandments as long as we are in a sacred place," said Father Gawain pointedly, with a mock-threatening expression on his face.

"I'm sorry," Gibbs apologized quickly, not entirely sure which commandment he had broken and when.

"Yes, we're serious," said Jack, pulling Elizabeth closer, and placing a quick kiss on her cheek. She laughed, and kissed him on the cheek in return. He smiled, and kissed her again. Gibbs stared at them in stupefaction.

"Don't ye think it's rude not to invite guests to the wedding?" cut in Barbossa in an artificially concerned tone of voice. "An' most importantly... parents?"

Captain Groom narrowed his eyes at him. "If he is going to behave like this," said Jack, shooting Gibbs an irritated look, pulling out his pistol, and pointing it at Barbossa.

Father Gawain sighed audibly. "I do believe I just said something about not breaking any commandments in my church."

Jack winced, and lowered his pistol. "Was such an opportune moment to shoot him," he muttered with a pout.

Elizabeth giggled, and nuzzled his neck. It felt so wonderful not to have to worry about anything. Tomorrow she would be gone, so today she could just do everything she wanted to.

Barbossa rolled his eyes. "I'd really like to know what did ye give her to drink," he muttered with a snort, receiving a glare from Jack.

* * *

"...I hereby pronounce you man and wife," the minister ended the ceremony with a smile, after the vows had been said, and the rings exchanged. "You may kiss the bride."

Jack pulled Elizabeth into his arms, and kissed her passionately, not caring about Barbossa's stifled laughter, or Gibbs' half-happy, half-terrified smile.

"Welcome to the married life, luv," whispered Jack brushing away a strand of hair that had fallen over Elizabeth's eyes.

"A married pirate life for me," she whispered with a smile, overwhelmed by what had just happened, intoxicated by his closeness and by the realization that they were married now; that they were now bound to each other...

_...until death... until Death do us part..._

He kissed her again, and then they signed the marriage papers, and Elizabeth thought that she had never seen such a beautiful parchment, embroidered with gold and silver stripes of thick, gritty paper. She glanced at Jack's green ring that was now adoring her finger, and smiled even more.

Barbossa and Gibbs placed their signatures on the document, Jack folded it, and tucked it quickly, but carefully into his pocket, and soon they were all out of the chapel, and in the dark street, and Elizabeth subconsciously wondered what time it was.

"Jack..." started Gibbs, but Jack cut him off.

"We'll be accepting gifts and congratulations tomorrow. An' now if ye excuse us, we'll be off to our honeywalk," said Jack, glancing up at the sky, and smiling upon noticing the stars. At least the night was not starless, even if the smoke of tomorrow's war might cloud over the stars for a long time... "Mrs. Sparrow," he kissed Elizabeth's hand, and pulled her away from their witnesses, before she even managed to say good-bye.

"Mrs. _Captain_ Sparrow!" exclaimed Elizabeth with mock-annoyance, as they ran through the empty streets toward the beach, their laughter echoing in the darkness.

"I'm not entirely certain I know exactly what has just happened," said Gibbs, shaking his head with a still disbelieving smile, looking after the pair that was quickly disappearing from view.

"Whatever happened, it will end soon," said Barbossa grimly, pulling the red apple, that he had not have the time to eat yet, out of his pocket and biting into it.

Gibbs darted his eyes to him suspiciously, but Barbossa only shrugged, and gave him a pale smile. "They're too cheerful," he said simply, and then grimaced, looking at the apple with distaste, and throwing it away with an angry grunt. "I can't recall a single instance of not being punished for being so cheerful," he added pensively, and then walked away, heading back to the Great Chamber, leaving Gibbs with a worried frown on his face.

* * *

They ran across the beach, and Jack swirled Elizabeth around before they ran to the sea, water splashing from under their sand-sodden boots.

"I can't believe I actually I married you," murmured Elizabeth teasingly between their incessantly repeatable kisses, wrapping her arms around Jack's neck.

Jack pulled away, putting on an offended look. "I can't believe ye married me so late, luv. I've already proposed to ye ages ago," he took her face in his hands, and kissed her deeply, his warm lips brightening every inch of her mind, setting ablaze every part of her, redirecting every single thought to him.

Elizabeth laughed. "That's an exaggeration."

He looked at her seriously, and her amused smile faded into a thoughtful one. "I have ye at last, an' I'll never, never let ye go," he said quietly, a small smile hovering over his lips, his eyes shining in the moonlight, his voice blended with the soft humming of the night sea.

Elizabeth blinked, trying to block the grim thoughts that his words were evoking. "Why did you marry me, Jack?" she asked in a low voice sliding her hands over his shoulders, her own words reverberating sweetly in her head. _Marry. Marry marry marry._

He ran his hand across her face almost roughly, and kissed her fiercely, closing her in his arms, which felt so strong around her that for a moment she thought that maybe, just maybe if he held her in his arms at dawn, nobody, no force would be strong enough to tear her away from him.

His hands traveled up and down her back, pressing her closer and closer to him, as if they could never be close enough. Then he slid his lips over her cheek, and started trailing open-mouthed, flaring kisses across her neck, her collarbones, her cleavage, and she moaned, caught off guard by the effect his lips and hands were having on her, dragging her into a different reality, into the warm darkness with only his name whispered by her, and his voice whispering her name, to guide her through.

She remembered their night on the _Black Pearl _in the past, and then their sunlit morning on the island...

But now it was different. Now everything was more complicated, and yet much simpler... Now he knew her like nobody else ever had, ever could... He knew her by heart, he had all her thoughts figured, or at least she felt as if he had... And it felt so blissful to be so _known _by him, that there was nothing to explain, no words seemed necessary except the words that were only meant to sweeten the moment, but not crucial for understanding which was already between them, _in _them. And she thought that, as strange as it sounded, he had known her even before they met... Before she had ever read about him... Before the world existed... It must have been meant to be...

She smiled, and kissed his neck.

But it was also meant to end...

Elizabeth closed her eyes, the tears stinging her eyelids, but then his lips met hers, brushing away the pain with the gentleness of summer wind.

They kissed as if there was no tomorrow, and the thought made her choke on the tears that she was determined not to shed. She locked her arms around him, kissing him greedily, trying to drink all the passion from his lips, half-aware of his hands pulling the dress off her shoulders.

"We should... go inside... somewhere," she whispered, tilting her head to the side, and kissing the corner of his mouth, evading his lips when he tried to kiss her fully on the mouth.

He smiled, his ragged breathing taking her breath away. She watched his lips as he spoke, fascinated. They were her lips, now. Her own lips. Her own husband's lips. Her own Jack. Her own Captain Jack Sparrow. She smiled.

"Wouldn't like to be caught by our numerous former fiances, aye?" he said with a hint of amusement in his voice, and she narrowed her eyes at him, a twinge of cold pain paralyzing her mind for a moment.

Will. She had not thought of him for the last few hours almost at all. She had totally forgotten... Will. They had been engaged for over a year. It had been a lovely year in Port Royal. Their walks in the mornings, sword fighting lessons in the afternoons, dinners in the evenings... And she had been so close to forgetting that it was all not what she really wanted; but it was so perfect, so quiescent, so... unavoidable that she had learnt to think about accepting it as a kind of gift... A happy, peaceful life with a wonderful man who loved her-

Jack broke into her train of thought with his lips on her shoulder, and his hands-

"Jack!" Her eyes snapped open, and she looked at him, a nervous smile on her face, her cheeks aglow.

He grinned with fake innocence. "Ye have no idea what ye've gotten herself into, Lizzie Sparrow," he whispered, making a mental note not to tell her – at least not yet – how he loved saying that, thinking about her that way. Lizzie Sparrow. The idea of marriage had never even crossed his mind until... a few minutes ago?... And now he could not imagine how he could have ever missed that brilliant way of chaining her to him. It was so beautifully simple, really. A promise, a ring, a kiss, and she was his. Forever.

"Oh really?" she chuckled, running her fingertips along his jawline.

He narrowed his eyes in a mischievous smile. "I won't let ye sleep at night. Or during the day, for that matter," he added after a moment of consideration.

Elizabeth laughed. "I'm not cooking, or cleaning, or sewing," she enumerated, using her fingers to illustrate her point, cuddling into Jack's arms as he held her close, toying with her hair. "Well, I may steer the ship, and order the crew around-"

"No, no, no, no," Jack interrupted her, shaking his head vigorously. "That's the captain's work, and I am the Captain. My ship, my crew, my wife," he kissed her lips, cutting off her next sentence.

She smiled into the kiss, and deepened it. "You're awfully possessive, Captain Sparrow. I'm beginning to think I shouldn't have married you. I feel patronized alread-" she gasped, when he nibbled on her lower lip.

"I _will_ patronize ye, threaten ye, and everything else I can think of. I still have me revenge to take, if ye recall, luv. Don't think I'm going to forget all about that. Ye owe me every inch of yer body and soul for all that suffering," he murmured into her hair, and closed his eyes when she kissed the side of his face, slowly gliding her lips across his cheek, and to his ear.

"I've never thought having a debt could be that..." she kissed his earlobe, and smiled when he groaned, "enthralling."

It was too late for everything except that one evening, that one night together, and in that moment she decided not to think about the sun until it would really replace the moon that was shining above them and the stars in Jack's- in _her husband's _eyes.

He slowly ran his hands up and and down the sides of her body, his lips and teeth grazing her skin. "I will keep you safe, 'Lizbeth. I promise," he whispered in a suddenly serious tone of voice, and she quickly blinked back the tears, glad that he could not see them. "I won't let anything happen to you."

She forced herself to laugh, and cradled his face in her hands. "What if I want some things to happen to me?" she asked, and he grinned roguishly.

"Anything bad, was what I meant, luv," he said, placing a warm kiss on her lips, his lips as warm as the tears behind her closed eyelids.

"Captain Jack Sparrow married. I'm afraid I'm ruining your legend," she whispered against his lips, looking up at him from under her eyelashes.

"Aye," he nodded with an exaggerated sigh. "True enough. I may be in need of some compensation for that," he tilted his head to the side, watching her face in the moonlight, his gaze shifting between her eyes, her lips, her hair... Each movement of his eyes accompanied by a quiet 'mine' reverberating in his head.

"Compensation?" Elizabeth raised an eyebrow. "I thought it was called... matrimonial duty," she said in a low voice, biting back a smile at his eyes fluttering shut for a moment.

"If ye'll be _dutiful_ enough, darling, I may consider sparing ye night watches during the rough weather," he said, slowly opening his eyes, and she could not see the stars in his eyes anymore, but only sable, velvet sky.

She tilted her head backwards, and laughed into the wind, feeling a strong gust of night air washing over them. He quickly pulled her back into his arms, almost fearfully. She met his eyes, and brought her hands to his face once again.

He took her hand in his, and kissed it. "See? It's mine," he muttered, and kissed each of her fingers.

"What?" Elizabeth stared at him with increasing amusement.

He took a few locks of her hair, and kissed them as well. "That's mine too. My hand, my fingers, my hair. Everything's mine," he whispered, outlining the contour of her lips with his dark finger. "All of you," he added quietly, brushing his lips against hers.

"I love you," she whispered, and he looked at her for a moment with an enigmatic smile on his face, stroking the sides of her face with his thumbs. He was about to say something, but she cut him off, her voice trembling. "I want you to know something, Jack," she bit her lip, looking him deeply in the eyes, and then in a low, serious voice she said very slowly: "Only Death could take me away from you."

He leaned his forehead against hers, and smiled. "Nothing will take ye away from me, luv. I've lost ships, and souls, but I won't lose you, I promise you that."

She smiled brokenly placing a finger across his lips. "Shhh. Don't say that," she whispered, and kissed him.

"Should we go onto the _Black Pearl_?" he asked quietly, when they broke apart.

Elizabeth shook her head. "Let's go to your room. We will be harder to find if Barbossa decides to spread the news about our wedding," she added, and they both laughed at the idea.

"Smart thinking, Mrs. Captain," said Jack, sweeping Elizabeth into his arms.

"What are you doing?!" she asked with a bright smile, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"Carrying me bride to me bed," he explained, flashing her a lopsided grin. "It's called a honeywalk. Haven't ye heard about that, luv?"

Elizabeth giggled, and nestled her head into the crook of his neck. "No," she said with a snort, her voice muffled, her lips on his skin.

Jack stumbled in the sand, almost falling down. "If you drop me, I will stop doing this," Elizabeth warned him, stifling a chuckle, and trying to sound threatening.

Jack grinned, and suddenly turned his head, capturing her lips in a long, fiery kiss. "Don't ye dare," he breathed, breaking the kiss. Elizabeth laughed.

* * *

"Is everything alright?" asked Bill Turner concernedly when Gibbs and Barbossa returned to the Great Chamber. The room seemed less crowded, and less noisy than a few moments ago.

Gibbs nodded, looking everywhere, but at Will, and quickly sitting down.

Barbossa slumped into his chair with a snort. Will wrinkled his forehead, shooting him a suspicious look.

"Have you seen Elizabeth anywhere?" asked the Governor, making Gibbs feeling even more awkward than he already felt.

He scratched his forehead, and scanned the table in search of rum. "Well... no," he mumbled, hoping that a mumbled lie did not exactly count as a lie. He leaned over the table to grab a bottle of rum that sat in front of Ragetti, not even noticing a slip of paper that fell from under his vest as he did so.

Governor Swann managed to catch the paper before it fell to the floor, and was ready to just hand it back to Gibbs, when a strange phrase caught his eye: C_aptain Groom and Beautiful Bride_. Almost subconsciously, he unfolded the paper.

Gibbs sat back in his chair. "We just-" he started, but stopped abruptly, his blood running cold in his veins at the sight of the Governor reading the note. He wanted to take it away from him immediately, but before he managed to even extend his hand, the Governor looked up at him - apparently having finished reading the note – his eyes wide, his face pale; Gibbs blinked, and swallowed.

"What is that?" asked the Governor, perplexed, his voice low and hesitant.

Will quickly stood up, and walked over to them, peering down at the piece of paper in the Governor's hands.

Gibbs glanced at Barbossa, who watched the scene in amusement, and then looked back at the Governor, not finding the right words to explain what had happened.

_...and Beautiful Bride_, Will finished reading the note, his heart pounding in his chest, his every muscle hurting as if it was being burned with hot iron. "What is that?" he echoed Governor Swann's question without even realizing it.

Seeing that Gibbs was too overwhelmed to say anything, Barbossa sighed deeply, and said in a loud, casual voice: "I'm afraid that yer fiancée is Mrs. Sparrow now, lad, although I'd really appreciate if ye killed him after we free Calypso." With that, Barbossa reached for his mug of rum, and took a generous swig.

Gibbs gave him a horrified look. James stared at him disbelievingly.

Will blinked. "What are you talking about?" he asked with a grimace of irritation on his face.

"Is this true?" The Governor looked at Gibbs, his voice serious, his face unreadable.

James shifted his gaze between them, still not really believing his own ears.

Gibbs winced, and shot an uncertain look at Will who looked as if he was on the edge of fury, and all he needed was one word. But unfortunately Gibbs did not really know how to find the way around this one word...

"Yes," he said at last in a hollow voice. "They got married."

James rose to his feet, but the Governor continued looking at Gibbs as if he had not said anything at all.

"What kind of joke is this?" Will stared at Gibbs, his patience dwindling.

"It's not a joke, Will," said Gibbs quietly, and finally gathered his courage to look him in the eye. "I'm sorry," he said sincerely.

For a moment Will just looked ar him, but then snorted, and smiled half-heartedly, nervously. "It's not true," he said distinctly, as if explaining something to Gibbs.

The Governor turned to the table, and rested his head in his hands.

"Where are they?" asked James sharply, glancing at the Governor, once again baffled by his inaction.

"I don't know," said Gibbs. "They went away after the cerem-"

"This is not true!" Will cut him off, annoyed; desperately trying to be only annoyed. "Elizabeth couldn't... wouldn't... It's not true!" he grabbed Gibbs by the shirt, pulling him to his feet.

"William," Bootstrap appeared on his side, freeing Gibbs from Will's grasp, and looking at his son compassionately. "That won't change anything."

"There's nothing to change!" Will snatched his arm out of his father's grip. "It's not true! It's some kind of-"

"William..." Bootstrap tried to interrupt him, but to no avail.

"I don't know what it is, but-"

"Oh, get over it, boy," Barbossa broke in impatiently. "The world's full of strumpets, makin' a fuss over one is downright stupid."

Will started for him, but his father held him back. "He's just trying to provoke you," he said in a low voice.

"Elizabeth is not a strumpet!" he shouted, glaring daggers at Barbossa, and still trying to break free from his father, but this time his grasp was stronger.

"I think ye should leave the defence of her honor to her husband," said Barbossa with a sweetish smile.

"Did my daughter marry... that man... voluntarily?" the Governor asked quietly, looking at Gibbs questioningly while Barbossa continued taunting Will.

Gibbs shifted his attention from Will back to the Governor. "Voluntarily?" he could not help but smile at that a little, even despite the predominant awkwardness of the entire situation. "I have never seen a happier lass in my life."

The Governor looked at Gibbs intently for a moment, and Gibbs was beginning to regret his remark, when, to his relief, and James' – who was still listening to their exchange – further bafflement, the Governor... smiled, if only faintly.

* * *

"Shhh," Elizabeth put her forefinger to her lips, giggling madly when, after running up the stairs and making lots of unnecessary noise, they at last reached Jack's room, walked in, and closed the door behind them.

Jack spun around from the door, and pulled her into his arms. "Last moment to change yer mind, luv," he said with a smile, trailing soft kisses on her neck.

Elizabeth sighed and smiled, sliding her hands into his dreadlocks. "You don't think _this _is going to change my mind, do you?"

"That's the trick, ye know. Change one's mind when one doesn't want to," he tilted his head backwards, and flashed her a smile.

She brushed her lips against his. "I'm not taking any pirate lessons tonight," she said, sliding her hands down his arms. "Tonight I don't want Jack the Pirate, Jack the Captain, Jack the Legend," she caught the hem of his shirt between her fingertips, her eyes locked with his. "I just want Jack the You."

He just looked at her for a while before placing a soft kiss on her lips, and putting his hands over hers, helping her to take off his shirt. She tossed his shirt on the desk with a smile. Jack took the marriage papers out of his pocket, and waved them lightly in front of her face.

"Careful with that, luv," he said, his eyes glimmering with amusement. "I don't want me legal right to ye ruined," he put the papers into the desk's drawer.

Elizabeth rested her head against the wall, and laughed. "I didn't know you care about legal rights that much," she said, watching him with a smile.

Jack opened another drawer, and took several candles out of it, then turned to Elizabeth, and grabbed her hand, tugging her toward him. "Rule number one," he said, motioning her to stand in front of him, and leaned against him. "Mrs. Captain Sparrow has to always be in the nearest possible vicinity from Captain Sparrow."

Elizabeth smiled, and watched him scratch a thin piece of wood against the rough surface, a small flame appearing right in front of them. "Easily done," she murmured, closing her eyes, turning her head, and pressing her cheek to his chest.

Jack rested his chin on the top of her head. "Rule number two," he took one of the candles, set it in a candelabra, and lighted it up. "Mrs. Captain Sparrow cannot fall asleep on her wedding night."

Elizabeth stifled a chuckle. "I'm not falling asleep," she said, placing a quick kiss on his chest.

"Good," he lightened two more candles, and then spun Elizabeth around, her eyes snapping open. "I dreamt about you for so long," he whispered, cradling her face in his hands.

"Me too," said Elizabeth with a smile.

Jack grinned, and Elizabeth's smile broadened until she was grinning herself, and for a moment they just stood grinning at each other, until Elizabeth pressed her lips to his, and they started kissing with unhurried, sweet tenderness.

"I do have to take back something I once said," he whispered against her lips, cupping her cheek with his hand, and watching the shadows of the candlelight flickering in her eyes. "It shouldn't be a dress or nothing. It should definitely be nothing."

Elizabeth kissed him and then swirled around in his arms, brushing her hair off her back, and over one of her shoulders. "Rule number three, if Captain Sparrow wants Mrs. Captain Sparrow naked, he has to unlace her dress himself," she said with a smile.

Jack chuckled, and brushed his lips over her shoulder, sliding her sleeve down. "With pleasure," he caught the straps of red lace between his fingers, and started unlacing it, noticing to his own embarrassment that his hands were shaking.

Elizabeth glanced over her shoulder, shifting her eyes between her husband's hands, and his face in amusement. "Captain Sparrow!" she exclaimed haughtily, but then softened her voice, and giggled. "Why are your hands trembling?" she asked quietly, genuinely curious.

Jack wrinkled his forehead, struggling with the misbehaving straps of carmine fabric. "It's not like I undress the woman of my dreams every night," he muttered with a small pout.

Elizabeth rolled her eyes. "Just rip it off," she said meeting his amused gaze. He looked at her for a moment hesitating, before reaching down, and pulling a dagger out of his boot with a mischievous smirk.

Elizabeth turned her head away from him, and giggled when he started cutting off the fabric. She did not hold the dress, and just watch it slid off her, and pooling around her feet on the floor. The suddenness of it caught Jack off guard, and his dagger fell to the floor with a quiet, clinging sound.

"Lizzie..."

She turned around, and their lips crashed together, his arms encircling her, and closing her in a tight embrace. He broke the kiss to look at her, his voice dim and flammable.

"Do you even know how beautiful you are?" he whispered, and Elizabeth forced a laugh not to burst out crying at the memory of him saying exactly the same words in the past.

"I know now," she said, lightly touching his lips with hers.

Quickly, he took control over the kiss, but then suddenly they broke apart when a strong gust of wind blew the window open, abruptly dousing all the candles.

Jack made a step toward the table to fix the damage, but Elizabeth pulled him back, and slanted her mouth across his, kissing him feverishly. "Leave it," she breathed against his lips, her hands slowly sliding up his chest.

They locked eyes, and he swept her into his arms, and carried her to the bed, taking a step over the broken candles on the floor. Warm, night wind tugged lightly on her hair before he sat her down on the bed, took off her boots, and threw his own away.

He kissed her foot, and glanced up at her with a small smile. She smiled back at him, and leaned forward, cupping his face in her hands. She wanted to ask him so many question... She wanted to know so many things about him... So many memories he had and would have that she would never be able to share... She wanted him to tell her that he loved her, that he forgave her... She felt as if she knew the answers to these questions, but still she wanted to hear them... A few words, a few dreams to hold on to...

Will he fall in love again?... With somebody else?...

She was grateful for the darkness around them, for it made it impossible for him to see the tears in her eyes. He tossed his breeches on the floor, and climbed onto the bed next her, taking her into his arms, his coarse hands gliding across her skin with less timidity than she remembered, and yet she could feel the disbelief in the way his lips were marking her skin, in the way he chanted her name in his mesmerizing voice. She wanted to keep staring at him, but her eyelids fell over her eyes almost against her will when she felt his body on hers, fitting so perfectly as if they were one, cut into two by mistake. She ran her hands down his back, pressing her open palms to his skin, trying to memorize the feeling of his body under her touch, so she could still feel his skin even when he would be out of her reach... She could almost feel the physical pain of their separation already. It would hurt not to be so close to him, it would hurt not to feel his skin on hers, his lips pressed against hers; the very thought was hurting her already.

He snuggled his face into her hair, his breath ghosting over her skin, his lips on her neck, her ear.

"I love you."

The words floated to her across the soft darkness, through the sea-scented air, his voice engulfing her like delicate mist, red like her wedding dress, tangible like pain of the morning to come.

She turned her head to the side, her eyes searching his face. He smiled, his smile dark and heavy with emotions swirling in his dark orbs. "I love you," he repeated in a hoarse voice, and kissed her, and suddenly she fell apart, fell into the light that burst around her, and her eyes fluttered shut, missing a brief expression of surprise that flitted across his face.

She clutched his shoulders, trying to catch her breath, and the sight of her face ablaze in the dark wind somehow erased the twinge of jealousy from his heart. It did not matter now, anyway. He was her husband, she married him.

He kissed her, and she smiled while they flew across the night together, the sea murmuring outside of the window, the wind cooling down the heat of the light between them that was crashing the darkness around them, their names washing over them like ocean waves every time a thunder stroke the starlit sky of their minds entwined together, their hearts beating to the same rhythm set by their ragged breathing, their hands wandering in the saline rain, in the hot wind, the moonlight casting shadows on the floor, leaving them in the sable darkness of their passion that was setting their souls ablaze.

They collided with the shimmering, obsidian surface of the sea, breaking through it, drowning and soaring at the same time, the ocean and the sky blended into one, the moon glittering in the sunlight, below them, above them, around them...

They drifted into sleep in each other's arms, heavy from exhaustion, weightless from happiness.

* * *

Elizabeth woke up with a gasp, terrified, and wanted to sit up, but could not move with Jack's arms wrapped tightly around her. She sighed with relief, and glanced over his shoulder noticing dark blue and grey clouds gathering on the horizon. It was not the morning yet. She still have a few more moments till dawn.

She looked at Jack, and brought her hand to his face, stroking his cheek with her fingertips. Then she turned in his arms, cuddling into him with her back against him, smiling when she felt him burying his face in her hair.

"Have to warn ye, luv. I'm a light sleeper," he muttered splaying his open palm on her stomach under the thin, white cover, and pulling her closer.

Elizabeth smiled brokenly into the greyish darkness. "I'll keep that in mind," she said quietly, wondering how many nights he would spend thinking of her before moving on to someone else... She reached for his hand, and placed it under her head on the pillow.

He slightly leaned over her, and trailed light kisses along her forearm. She smiled, and nuzzled his hand under her cheek. He rested his chin on her shoulder, and looked at her for a moment.

"You could've told me, Lizzie," he said in a quiet, gentle voice, as if he did not want to scare her. Elizabeth blinked, and shifted in his arms, turning onto her back, and locking her hands behind his neck, looking at him questioningly. "I wouldn't have," he took a breath. "I mean... I wouldn't have... gotten angry," he rested his elbows on either side of her head, and looked down at her, delicately tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

Elizabeth wrinkled her nose in slight confusion. "I don't... understand," she said with a small, uncertain smile. "I could've... told you? I could've told you what?" she looked at him tentatively, not knowing what could he possibly mean. He could not have known about the dawn... could he? He would not have behaved so calmly... But other than that, she had no idea what he could have been talking about.

He twitched his nose, for a moment regretting that he had even started this conversation. He should have left it in the past. But for some reason he just wanted to make it clear... he wanted to make all the things between them clear. He promised himself never to lie to her, and he did not want her to lie to him. He wanted her to know that she could always tell him everything.

"Lizzie," he narrowed his eyes at her, giving her a mockingly threatening look, and then brushing his lips against hers.

Elizabeth's confusion grew even more. "What?" she bit her lip, looking at him in bafflement.

Jack rolled his eyes, not considering the subject a good pretext for taunting him.

"Ye could've told me that ye were with him, that's all," he said quietly, trying to keep his voice flat. It was not her fault. If anybody was there to blame, it was that treacherous turncoat with his laughable notions of honor. Apparently seducing a lass before marrying her did not stand in opposition to his code of honorable behavior.

Elizabeth's eyes widened. "What?" she repeated now not merely baffled, but very much astonished.

Jack wrinkled his forehead, looking at her oddly. He was really not going to talk about it in detail. He just wanted to set right all the matters between them. That was one of the reasons he had married her. He wanted, for once in his life, everything to be clear, honest, and transparent. And he did not understand why she could not just admit it, and have it over with. She did not think he had not noticed, did she? He smiled at that a little, even thought the situation was not very amusing.

"Lizzie, I don't want to talk about it. I don't blame you. Would've been hypocritical, really. But I just don't want you to lie to me. I-"

Elizabeth pushed herself to an upright position, forcing Jack to do the same. "What are you talking about?" she asked with an incredulous smile that annoyed him a bit.

"I'm talking about you and _him_," he said in a slightly impatient tone of voice, looking at her intensely.

"Me and... " Elizabeth grimaced. "Why all of a sudden-" Then she remembered what he had said. "I've never been with him! What are you talking about?"

Now he gave her a perplexed look. "You've never been with him," he repeated with a hint of sarcasm in his voice, but she decided to ignore it, and just nodded, trying to understand-

And then it suddenly dawned at her.

"_Just dig yer nails in me back as hard as ye wish, luv."_

He thought that it was only a dream, so his natural conclusion was that she had been with somebody else before him, that she had been with Will!...

"Jack-"

"I asked you not to lie to me," he said, his voice still calm, although she could see that he was upset, and not by what he had believed happened between her and Will, but rather by her stubborn denial that it had happened.

"I'm not lying," she said in a low voice, not really knowing what to say. Should she just confirm his suspicions? She glanced at the window, the breaking of the day seemed so close. It did not matter anyway. And she could not tell him the truth. But somehow she could not stand the idea of him thinking that she was with Will... "I've never been with Will. I've only ever been with you," she said unsmilingly, looking at him sadly.

He looked at her for a moment, as if waiting for her to say something yet, but then muttered "right" under his breath, turned around, and slid off the bed.

"Where are you going?" Elizabeth watched him getting dressed, blinking back the tears, but he probably could not see them anyway, for he was not looking at her.

"I'll get us some breakfast, and maybe when I'll be back you'll tell me truth," he said coolly, and then walked out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him. Why did she have to ruin everything all the time? He just wanted her to be honest with him! Nothing more than that.

Elizabeth stared at the closed door, the tears streaming down her cheeks. It was not how she pictured their goodbye, their last words to each other, their last moment together...

She felt something warm on her face, and she turned her head abruptly to look at the window.

The rays of the morning sun slowly crawled into the room.

* * *

Jack stormed into the small, private dining quarters that were located at the main floor of the building. Perhaps he had overreacted. He regretted the tone of his voice already. But fortunately he could repair the damage in a moment. Maybe she just did not want to talk about it at all? He really should not have talked to her like that. Why had he? There was no reason to be jealous. She loved him. She married him. What more would he-

"Morning, Jack."

Jack stopped abruptly in his tracks, suddenly noticing Bill Turner who was sitting at the table. He was so deep in thought that he had not noticed him at first.

"Morning," he answered, looking at Bill uncertainly.

"How is your Beautiful Bride?" asked Bill in a voice that did not give away his mood.

Jack took a deep breath, making a mental note to kill Gibbs.

"Good, thank ye. An' how is..." he wiggled his fingers in the air, thinking that a string of insults would not make the situation any better.

"He was lookin' for ye, he searched the _Pearl_, didn't find ye," replied Bootstrap without waiting for Jack to finish his question.

Jack walked over to the table, and picked some fruits from the bowl. "I love her," he said, his eyes fixed on the fruits. "I wouldn't have traded the feeling for being fair to anybody, not even yer son, I'm sorry," he said, lifting his gaze to Bill.

"Can't blame ye," he said with a faint smile. "Especially if she loves ye back... which she does," he added with a sigh, before Jack gave him his answer. Jack wrinkled his forehead, but smiled, while Bill continued. "I sorted out my thoughts, ye know," he said pensively, looking down at his hands. Jack squinted. "I remember what happened," Bill looked up, the exhaustion caused by the sleepless night clear in his eyes.

"What happened when?" Jack looked at him, puzzled.

Bill smiled. "The mutiny, everything," he sighed. "She told me to jump overboard, and I did. That's why I'm alive now. I remember how we were stranded on an island. Do you remember, Jack? You and her seemed so in love... I don't know how it is all possible, how she could be in the past, and now she is here... I don't know," he rubbed his forehead. "She disappeared, back then, on the island, do ye remember? We didn't know what happened and-"

"That was my dream," Jack cut him off in a hollow voice, his eyes wide open. "Ye had the same dream?" he asked, confused, suddenly remembering that Elizabeth had said that she had had the same dreams.

Bill shook his head. "They weren't dreams, Jack. It really happen. That's the problem. That's why I am alive. But nothing good can come out of this, I tell ye. It's not right for a dead man to be alive," he said with a thoughtful expression on his face.

Barbossa's words when he had told him that he had been really dead suddenly came back to Jack as he listened to Bill with growing astonishment, and cold feeling of dread creeping over him. All the pieces of the mystery were gradually falling into their places. Elizabeth's strange sleep, his odd dreams that felt like memories, Tia Dalma's cryptic words...

Was this possible?... How was it possible?

Bill continued talking, but he did not hear him, frozen to the spot by the sudden realization. If his 'dreams' were true, if he somehow met Elizabeth in the past...

"_I'm not lying. I've never been with Will. I've only ever been with you."_

Jack spun around, and ran out of the room, jumping three steps at a time, and quickly reaching his room, his heart pounding.

She was with him! She was with him in the past! He laughed at himself. It was himself he had been jealous of! He did not know how it was possible, but he was going to get all his answers from her _now_.

He hastily opened the door, and stormed in.

But save for the sunlight - the room was empty.


	37. Chapter 37

A/N: _**Thank you so much for all the amazing reviews! **_**:)**

Disclaimer: I don't own PotC.

**Chapter 37**

"Lizzie?" Jack looked around the room rather puzzled by Elizabeth's absence. He had not been gone for more than several minutes. Where was she? She did not get upset about his suspicions, did she? After all it was not his fault that _she _had not told him about those 'dreams'.

Why hadn't she told him? He still could hardly believe that strange discovery... Even though he probably believed it faster than logic would allow... For some reason as soon as Bill had mentioned it he knew it was true... Somewhere deep inside he always knew... And now he desperately tried to remember every small detail of those 'dreams' that he had tried so hard not to think about before. Now he did not want any little moment lost; now that he knew that it really happened... The meeting in the tavern when she was staring at him... her senseless apologies... her bluntness... her confessions... Everything was suddenly making perfect sense.

"Lizzie?" With a sigh, he turned around, and headed for the door, wondering where she could have gone with her limited knowledge of the Cove. He will kiss her senseless once he finds her, and tell her not to ever go anywhere without him again. Did she forgot the rule number one? He smiled, but then his smile faded when he noticed that Elizabeth's carmine dress was still lying on the floor right where they had left it. He wrinkled his forehead in stupefaction, and scanned the room once again. He did not have any other clothes in this room, and she did not have any other clothes with her either. No matter how angry she would not have gone walking around the place naked, he thought with a small smirk, even though his humor was fading rather quickly.

He bent down, and picked up the dress, brushing his thumbs over the silk. He could still feel her breath on his skin when she panted his name, her hands grasping his shoulders, her lips...

He put the dress away, and just in case checked the wardrobe, and looked under the bed. Not that he had really expected her to be in either of those places, but on the other hand one could never know when it came to Mrs. Captain Jack Sparrow.

He bit back a smile, and once again turned to the door, but stopped dead in his tracks noticing something on the floor. Slowly, he squatted down, and reached for the small object with his hand... or rather for two pieces of one small object...

With wonder, he stared at the two pieces of his green ring which he had given to Elizabeth as the wedding ring during their marriage ceremony.

The ring was broken.

He closed it in his hand, suddenly feeling cold shivers running up his spine.

Something was wrong.

* * *

She felt as if she was sleeping, even though she knew she was not... Her eyelids felt so heavy, but there were no images behind them, no colors in her head, not even the darkness...

She could not see anything, trapped in an amorphous dream that had no look and no sound, and she could only sense some strange, shimmering quality of it; sense that she was alive.

Tears gathered somewhere deep in her mind, or her heart, she was not sure, and yet she knew she would not, could not cry with her eyes closed, and for a moment she feared she might drown in her tears if-

Drown...

And then suddenly in the colorless nothingness of her non-dream there was his face floating above hers, eyebrows knitted, and the curiosity of a stranger fixed on her as she laid on the dock cold and soaking wet, rescued only to be lost again, for when she looked in his eyes she knew that she would see him again... somehow... She wanted to reach for him, but it was too early... and she just touched him with her eyes.

"Jack," Elizabeth opened her eyes with a gasp, and sat up, the memory of their first meeting as fresh in her mind as if it had just happened, as if it was still happening... She took a deep breath, almost hearing her heart pounding in her chest. Her fingers closed around some fabric, her fist clenching.

He was not here, and she did not even have to look around to know it. She remembered the dawn, remembered her wedding ring breaking, and then everything went grey and silver, and she could see nothing, the light of the sun suddenly cold on her skin like blanket of icicles.

She hugged herself with a heavy sigh, comforted by the familiar texture of her carmine dress-

But she had not had the time to wear her dress, had she?

Slowly she looked at herself, and blinked at the surprised sight of the dress that looked strikingly similar to the dress Jack had given her. Only that this one...

was black.

She looked up, taking a cautious look around. She was sitting on the bed in a dimly lit room, but she was not able to determine where the dim light was coming from. There was no window, no lanterns, no candles-

Candles...

"_Leave it."_

She hid her face in her hands, and moaned. She had thought that memories would have helped her survive the separation from him, but it seemed that they made her feel even worse. How could she endure twenty years without his touch if he remembered it so well? How could she stand not being able to touch him if she could still feel his lips on hers, his hands hugging her to him, cradling her face, holding her when she was falling apart into a thousand rainbows flashing around her.

"Oh Jack." She did not even want to see where she was. She did not even want to live anymore. _After twenty years he will hardly remember me..._

Or maybe she should have more faith in him... But still, twenty years were just too long to expect him to keep his feelings for her intact. He might remember her, but there was no hope he would still love her...

Perhaps it was for the better that he had gotten upset with her... She did not want him to hurt, to feel like she was feeling now. But she could not imagine what he would think about her disappearance... What would her father think... She had not even managed to talk to him one last time... to tell him that she was happy, that Jack loved her, that she was married to him...

Swallowing the tears, Elizabeth slowly slid off the bed, taking a look around the room. The room looked ordinary, and she did not know what to think of it. She remembered what Jack had said about the Maelstrom of Time, that it was a living hell, a place where people who made a deal with Death were put through as much suffering as they could endure. So shouldn't she be in some horrible place right now? She almost wished she was... Maybe real pain would take away the pain smouldering in her heart...

She tucked loose strands of her hair behind her ears, and walked barefooted to the door, hesitatingly placing her hand on the knob.

"Impatience brings losses."

Elizabeth swirled around with a gasp, her eyes feverishly searching the semi-darkness around her.

* * *

"Mister Gibbs!!"

"Jack!" Gibbs ran toward Jack across the corridor, a distressed look on his face. "I'm afraid-"

"Have you seen Elizabeth?" Jack cut him off, looking around the hallway, as if hoping that he would see her at any moment, already on the verge of starting shouting at her for making him worry-

Worry?... Yes. And he did not even remember worrying about anything that much.

"Elizabeth?" Gibbs blinked, perplexed. "I thought she was with ye," he offered tentatively.

Jack shot him an annoyed look. "She was just a moment ago. I went downstairs for a minute-"

"I'm sure she'll be right back," said Gibbs with a small, reassuring smile, and if it was not for the bad news he had to break to Jack right now, he would have found it very amusing that Jack Sparrow was panicking, because his lass had gone somewhere without telling him.

"Something is wrong," muttered Jack more to himself than to Gibbs.

"Aye, about that-" Gibbs grimaced, and nervously rubbed his forehead, but Jack did not let him finish his sentence.

"Her dress is still in the room, and her ring..." Jack opened his hand, and Gibbs looked at the two pieces of the ring in wonder. "Something is wrong," he repeated quietly. "Tell everybody to look for her," he took a step to walk past Gibbs.

"Jack, wait-"

"Send somebody to town, in case she got outside, which I doubt, but still," Jack knitted his eyebrows, closing the broken ring in his fist.

"Jack-" Gibbs raised his hands and voice, trying to break into Jack's train of thought, and tell him what he needed to tell him.

"If ye'll find her, don't let her go anywhere, just-"

"Jack, I have to tell ye something, it's import-"

"Nothing in more important than me wife! Savvy?" bellowed Jack through his gritted teeth, causing Gibbs, and the people who just appeared in the corridor to cringe.

"Aye," Gibbs swallowed, and nodded, glancing at Barbossa who was approaching quickly, accompanied by the Governor who had been awoken by sudden commotion, and had quickly left the room he had been given, having an irrational feeling that something happened to Elizabeth, but as it turned out the reason for the commotion was different...

"So where is she?" asked Barbossa in a very irritated tone of voice, disregarding Gibbs' dramatic gestures meant to indicate that he had not managed to tell Jack yet...

Jack turned around, and glared at Barbossa. "It's none of yer concern," he said, annoyed, glancing at the Governor, and subconsciously remembering that he had forgotten to do something... ask for Elizabeth's hand in marriage, or ask for a blessing, or something along those lines... And his annoyance toward Barbossa grew as he was sure the image of him shouting in the morning was not something that Elizabeth's father would appreciate, and it was certainly not an image that would prevent him from slicing him into half as soon as he would have found out – which he must have found out already, actually... So perhaps even knowing that Elizabeth married him, her father had no intention of killing him, which was, he had to admit, a fairly good start of family relations...

"Jack-" Gibbs tried to explain once again, and once again failing to continue.

"Well, it is my concern," retorted Barbossa angrily. "Firstly, she is mine, secondly, ye've lost 'er again which makes ye unquestioningly unworthy of 'er, an' thirdly-"

Jack pulled out his pistol, and fired, and if it was not for Gibbs who grabbed his arm, the bullet would have pierced straight through Barbossa's heart. Barbossa blinked, slightly taken aback by the suddenness of Jack's reaction.

Governor Swann stared at Jack, suddenly hit by the realization that the this man was his family now; this screaming man with a pistol in his hand was his daughter's husband. She must have been insane to marry him. And he must have been even more insane to have allowed it.

"Jack, ye don't understand," Gibbs struggled to keep Jack from shooting again.

"What the hell are ye doing?!" screamed Barbossa, reaching for his own pistol, and the Governor decided that it was the right moment to take two steps away from those people.

Gibbs winced, accidentally loosening his grip on Jack's arm. Jack started forward, backing Barbossa against the wall, and pressing the pistol under his chin.

"Take back all that nonsense ye just said," he said in a low, menacing voice.

"I can't see why I should take anything back," Barbossa whispered hoarsely, his eyes glaring daggers at Jack, who cocked his pistol.

"Jack, he's talking about the _Black Pearl_," said Gibbs in a very unhappy voice.

"I know he's talkin' 'bout the _Black Pearl_," snapped Jack angrily, his eyes fixed on Barbossa's face. That's why-" he trailed off, and blinked. "What?" he glanced at Gibbs over his shoulder.

Gibbs sighed frustratedly. "The _Black Pearl_ is missin', Jack. I was tryin' to tell ye..."

"What do ye mean the _Black Pearl_'s missing?" Jack let go of Barbossa, and turned to fully face Gibbs. Barbossa rolled his eyes, and put his pistol away.

"We just noticed it," said Gibbs uncomfortably. Jack looked away, wrinkling his forehead. "I don't know how it could happen. We left the night watch... Four people. But they're nowhere to be found now, they must be still on the ship..." Gibbs hesitated, before adding. "There's also no trace of Will."

Jack darted his eyes to Gibbs, the unsettling image of Will kidnapping Elizabeth suddenly springing to his mind, sending a wave of cold across his body.

Barbossa snarled angrily. "Ye stole his wench, ye should've at least had the decency to shoot him. It was well foreseeable he could do something like that. And now ye doomed us all!"

The Governor shot Barbossa a cold glare, suddenly finding Jack's attempts to shoot the man fairly well-justified.

"Is she still in sight?" asked Jack, for once ignoring Barbossa, and looking at Gibbs expectantly.

Gibbs shook his head. Jack inwardly sighed with relief. If Will had taken the _Pearl_ more than two quarters of an hour ago, then he could not have kidnapped Elizabeth. It struck him how insignificant the commandeering of the _Pearl_ suddenly seemed in comparison with the fear of losing his wife. _His wife._

"Ye don't understand, do ye?" screamed Barbossa, fury flashing in his eyes. He took a hasty step toward Jack, and lowered his voice. "Maybe ye forgot who was locked in the brig on that ship," he said, looking at Jack piercingly, and Jack looked back at him, even though his mind was spinning trying to figure out where Elizabeth could be, making it difficult for him to concentrate on any other subject. "Without her, we stand no chance in that war. An' now, thanks to ye, we have no _Black Pearl_, and no Calypso. It isn't hard to predict whom that little maggot will give them both to."

"They don't even have one Piece of Eight, not to mention nine of them, so they can't use Calypso against us," observed Gibbs matter-of-factly.

"Mister Gibbs," Jack interrupted before Barbossa had a chance to retort. "I think I gave ye an order," he said sternly. Gibbs blinked, puzzled, not recalling any order, except- "Search the Cove, and let me know if ye find Elizabeth," he said, and made to leave.

Governor Swann wrinkled his forehead at the mentioning of Elizabeth. _"If you find Elizabeth" ?_

Barbossa snarled. "So ye've lost her as well? Perhaps she didn't find the wedding night with ye satisfying," he sneered. "Can always help ye with that, ye know. Just send her to m-"

The word died on his lips when a bullet flew next to his face, brushing his cheek, and with astonishment Barbossa brought his hand to his face, and touched the side of it feeling the blood on his fingers.

"I'm really not in the mood today," said Jack, giving him a grim look, and quickly walking away.

Barbossa stared after him, and then narrowed his eyes, and muttering curses under his breath stormed away into the opposite direction.

Gibbs ran his hands across his face with a sigh. It was all just not going well. Even though there was little Beckett could do with Calypso, but without the Pieces of Eight, there was also _nothing_ _they_ could do without Calypso and with all the Pieces of Eight in the world.

"Is Elizabeth... missing?" The Governor Swann's voice brought Gibbs back from his reverie.

"Missing?" Gibbs blinked. "N-no, I don't think so. She's just gone somewhere without telling. Jack's a bit wary 'bout losing her out of sight, I guess," he said with a small smile.

The Governor nodded, his eyebrows furrowed in thought. "I'd like to talk to her," he said in a low voice, suddenly feeling a twinge of melancholy at the idea that now he would have to request a conversation with his own daughter, ask if she had time, ask... her husband if _they_ had time. He shook his head with an inaudible sigh. He was so tired yesterday, so exhausted, but now in the morning light everything looked different, and for a moment he could hardly imagine how could he have ever agreed on her marriage to that... pirate.

But then he remembered her confession, and the look in her eyes...

He really needed to talk to her.

"Oh, I'm sure as soon as we-"

"Jack, where's Jack?" Bill Turner broke into Gibbs' sentence suddenly appearing on his side, a look of deep anxiety on his face. Gibbs looked at him, hoping that there was no more bad news in store for them all, but judging from Bootstrap's face... "I have to tell him... ask if he remembers... I remember," he grimaced, and nervously rubbed his temple. "When we were marooned, before the girl disappeared, she was talking to somebody we could not see..." he squinted into the distance, straining his memory. "I shouldn't be here," he whispered, shaking his head sadly. "It's not right I'm here," he muttered absently.

"Who disappeared?" Governor Swann looked between Gibbs and Bill Turner questioningly, a strange feeling of cold dread washing over him for the second time this morning.

Gibbs winced, and thought that it was really not fair that it was always him who had to explain everything to everybody. "When Elizabeth was in the past-" he stopped in mid-sentence suddenly remembering that according to what Tia Dalma had said, he should not be talking about that at all.

Both men looked at him wide-eyed.

"Elizabeth was _in the past_?" repeated Governor Swann incredulously. "What is that supposed to mean?" he asked with a small, nervous smile.

"You knew about that? You knew that she was in the past?" Bill Turner looked at Gibbs searchingly.

"This is all rather complicated," said Gibbs in a miserable voice, already sensing troubles. "When we found Jack in the Locker, he was dead, and-"

"Jack was dead?" Bill cut in, his eyes widening.

The Governor only blinked, not even trying to understand that piece of news before it was thoroughly explained.

"Well," Gibbs scratched his forehead. "It seemed so, but I guess he was not really dead, seeing-"

"So it had something to do with it," whispered Bootstrap, taking a step backwards, his eyes wandering absent-mindedly around the hallway. Gibbs shook his head in incomprehension. "I was dead, and I'm here... He was dead, and he is here..." He ran his hand across his face, his breathing quickening. "She was talking about the price... I remember the word..." He blinked, and swallowed. "I have to talk to her," he said in a suddenly urgent tone of voice, darting his eyes to Gibbs, who was gradually becoming more and more confused. "I have to talk to them both... Where are they?"

Gibbs took a deep breath. "Perhaps that's not the best moment. We all have to set sail soon, and now with the _Pearl_ gone, we also have to-"

"The_ Pearl_ is gone?" Bill interrupted once again, and Gibbs wondered if it was actually Bootstrap's habit to always cut people's off in the middle of their sentences.

"Aye," he nodded. "And we're afraid..." he gave Bill a hesitating look. "We suspect that it was Will who took the _Pearl_."

Bill looked at him for a moment in silence, slowly taking in the news. "I see," he whispered at last. "I should've known, should've kept an eye on him, but he said he wanted to be alone, and I was so tired..." he trailed off, wrinkling his forehead, feeling a twinge of pain at the thought that Will had not trusted him enough to talk to him before doing such a thing... He was acting in a fever, no doubt, but still... He had left without even saying good-bye to him... But perhaps he should not be the one resenting others for abandoning him...

"_I will not abandon you."_

Even if it hurt...

"That's not yer fault," Gibbs gave him a faint, sympathetic smile.

Bill slowly shifted his gaze from the floor to Gibbs. "I wouldn't be so sure of that," he said pensively, once again drifting in his thoughts back to the island, trying to recall every word of that strange conversation Elizabeth had been apparently having with someone that neither Jack nor him could have seen.

* * *

He had been everywhere.

He had checked his room, he had checked the entire floor. In fact he had been to _every _room on _each_ floor, but Elizabeth was nowhere to be found. Nobody had seen her this morning, and Jack's anxiety was growing, his heartbeat quickening with every next, checked, empty room, with every person shaking their heads in denial.

Where did she go? Where could she possibly go? Jack walked hastily across the corridor, hanging onto half-hearted threats sent her way, imagining how he would scream at her for disappearing like that once he found her. First he would scream, then kiss her, then apologize for his mistaken accusation... then kiss her again, and shout some more, threaten her with walking the plank, hug her, and silence her with a kiss when she would try uttering some kind of retort. Then he would flung her over his shoulder, and carry her upstairs, and tell her that she must not leave this room until she would atone for making him search for her for over an hour...

_...over an hour..._

...and then she would smile and laugh and kiss him-

"She looked haunted."

Jack spun around, finding Teague standing in the doorway with his immortal guitar in his arms. He remembered when he was a lad he had thought that Teague's voice was hidden in this guitar, and if he had put it away, he would have not been able to speak.

"She looked haunted when she was looking for you yesterday," said Teague in a calm voice, his eyes fixed on Jack's face.

"Have you seen her this morning?" asked Jack in a strangely hurried tone, as if trying to deafen Teague's words.

Teague looked at him for a while, until the silence began to pulsate in Jack's ears, and he shook his head, even before Teague spoke at last. "She's not here, Jackie," he said quietly, his voice causing the blood in Jack's veins to freeze. "She's not here."

* * *

"Where did you intend to go if you don't even know where you are?"

The voice seemed to come from the far right corner of the room – toneless and mildly arrogant. Elizabeth still could not make a definite shape of a person in the dim light.

"I know where I am," she snapped, taking a cautious step forward to see better. She could almost _feel _him smile.

"Do you?" The voice flew across the room, as if it was made out of mist; a mist that was enveloping her tighter and tighter every time he spoke.

Elizabeth clenched her fists, and strained her eyes, but all she could see was a shadowed part of the room, and she could not observe any movement, as if nobody was there... which, she _knew_, was not true.

"I'm in the Maelstrom of Time," she said thrusting up her chin to make up for her involuntarily quivering voice.

She heard a quiet snort, and suddenly she could see a movement in the corner of the room, and a grey silhouette emerged from the darkness taking a step toward her. She held her breath desperately trying not to lose her composure.

He looked as she remembered him from that day on the beach, and then later when he appeared-

She quickly brought her hand to her face, and her eyes widened at the sight of the silver band around her finger. Now she could not only feel it, but see it as well.

"What is this?" she asked sharply, shifting her eyes to him. "And why did _my_ wedding ring break?"

"This is _your_ wedding ring," came a flat reply, as the man took several more steps forward, his way of walking reminding her strangely of London, when she had sat on the top of the stairs watching her parents' guests crossing the hallway.

"No, it's not," retorted Elizabeth coldly, fighting the urge to step back; she could not show him that she was afraid. _Jack, Jack, Jack_, she started chanting his name to calm herself, wishing that she had told him, after all... Maybe he could do something? Find the way to get her back... Maybe she should have had more faith in him... Maybe he did love her that much...

"Oh, I see. You're talking about..." he stopped right in front of her, his colorless eyes studying her face intently, "him."

"I'm talking about my wedding ring," said Elizabeth, feeling a strange twinge of fear at the mentioning of Jack, and trying, on an impulse, to distract the man's attention from her husband.

"_Welcome to the married life, luv." _Elizabeth gritted her teeth to keep from screaming. _Jack, Jack, Jack._

"Do you think he will wait, twenty years?" asked the man raising his eyebrows, a ghost of a pale sneer that flickered across his face sending shivers up her spine.

"I don't think this should be of any interest to you," answered Elizabeth in the coldest voice she could muster, even though she had an impression that she could never match the coldness of the man's eyes.

The _man's_ eyes... She was afraid to start calling him, or even thinking about him differently... She wanted to push the thought who he really was as far away from her mind as possible.

"And what if it is?" he asked, standing so still that for a moment she doubted if he was real, or perhaps it was only a sculpture talking to her in that blank, strangely mesmerizing voice.

"I can't see why it should be," she answered, not really knowing what she should say, but thinking that any answer would be better than none.

He looked at her for a moment in silence, before reaching out, and touching a strand of her hair. Elizabeth took a hasty step back.

"From what I heard Maelstrom of Time is the place of suffering for those who made a deal with... Death," she said hurriedly, almost choking on the word. "Am I in the Maelstrom of Time already, or not?"

He smiled. "You just said that you know where you are. Why are you asking me the very question you already answered for yourself?" he asked with a hint of unsettling, dim amusement in his voice.

Elizabeth narrowed her eyes at him, took one more step backwards, and gasped, unexpectedly colliding with the door she forgot was so close behind her.

To her relief, the man did not move closer. "Place of suffering is such a crude expression..." he grimaced slightly, his eyes boring into hers, and she had to blink to shake off the odd feeling of numbness that was falling over her when she looked in his eyes too intently. He smiled faintly, and continued: "For those who made a deal with Death," he slowly repeated her words. "You make it sound almost like an accusation, while it was a gift, was it not? You wanted to save two lives, I brought back two _dead_ people, and that was the price, you agreed to the terms of the bargain."

"I don't really know what bargain it is, apart from the fact that I am to be here for twenty years," replied Elizabeth stiffly, feeling the tears gathering in the corners of her eyes, but she was determined not to cry in front of him.

"Making a bargain without knowing its terms, a brave thing to do," he said evenly.

"A stupid thing, you mean," retorted Elizabeth, having an uncomfortable impression that she was falling into his rhythm of speaking.

He smiled, a slow, brief, predatory smile. "Is there any difference, really? Coming back to rescue somebody you love is a brave thing to do, and yet in the light of the consequences it may turn out to be very stupid," he watched her face carefully.

Elizabeth's mouth twitched, a cold wave hitting her at the incredulous realization what he was talking about. If he was talking about that... He could not-

She gasped when he suddenly grabbed her wrists, and tugged her toward him. She tried to snatch her hands away, but to no avail.

"Maelstrom of Time is the place of suffering, but suffering is not about the flaming fire that might burn your flesh, nor is it about the piercing coldness of a sword that might wrench your heart apart," he whispered, his face very close to hers, and it struck her that she could not feel his breath on her face, as if... he was not breathing. "Suffering is about the soul fading away," Elizabeth cringed, and he lowered his voice even more, "about _losing_ one's soul; about losing one's heart."

She made a frustrated effort to break free, but it was as if trying to break free from the shackles-

She shuddered at the comparison. His hands felt like shackles; cold and unbreakable around her wrists.

"I am to be here for twenty years, and then I am free to go," she said in a quiet, firm voice, her lips barely moving.

He looked at her blankly, as if she had not said anything at all, before he said something that caught her off guard: "You have blood on your hands. Taking lives should not be difficult for you."

Elizabeth stared at him wide-eyed, frozen to the spot by his words. "What do you mean?" she whispered after a pause, paling.


	38. Chapter 38

A/N: _**Thank you so much for all the awesome reviews! **_**:)**

...Just one more week, and things should be back to normal! :) (As far as the frequency of updates is concerned, and not the plot of this story, of course lol)

Disclaimer: PotC belong to Disney.

**Chapter 38**

When James finally retreated to the room he had been given, he was tossing and turning for a few hours, not able to stop his racing thoughts and fall asleep. There were just too many things to think about, too many overwhelming occurrences and incidents, too many future possibilities...

And too much time to think.

Even though he was exhausted he would have rather gone into the battle right away to save himself the unnecessarily abundant amount of time to think about certain people getting married. And somehow the fact that some other people were certainly having a definitely worse nightmares than he had right to have, was not making him feel better. Perhaps there was a very faint glimpse of revengeful satisfaction in that situation on his side, but it was so faint, and so, in fact, unhelpful that he hardly noticed that he felt it at all.

After several hours he gave up his efforts to fall asleep, stopped stirring, and just stared at ceiling wondering what were his (or everybody else's, for that matter) chances _not _to die on the following day. Not that he would mind it terribly, he thought with a quiet snort, watching the thin strip of moonlight crossing the room, and hanging above him like a magical silver bridge. If it was only not so fragile, maybe he could use it to walk away from here, to... go back. He sighed. _Go back._ Whatever that meant. If it even meant anything at all... anymore.

He did what he could to ensure that there was not going back, didn't he? And yet every time he thought his position fixed and permanent, something always happened to prove him wrong, and change his course so drastically that he could immediately neither acknowledge nor accept the new direction in which he was headed.

Were his choices his own? He was not sure anymore. He had always believed that it was the man's responsibility to hold his fate in his hands, and choose the path of his life. At the same time he knew he could not create the path... But it was his decision which path he would choose. It was his decision whether he would follow the path no matter where it led. It was his decision on which side of the road he would walk. Finally, it was up to him whether he would walk until the very end of the road, or rather turn at some point, and choose a different path to continue his journey.

But at the moment he felt that he had lost his sense of direction. He turned too many times to be able to decipher where exactly he was.

He closed his eyes hoping that he exhausted his imagination enough to finally drift into sleep, but as soon as his eyelids cut him off from the moonlight, he saw _them _as he had seen them right after his arrival when he had not known yet that it was them kissing in the corridor as if there was no tomorrow. He opened his eyes to stop seeing the disturbing image. He did not know exactly how he felt – or should feel about it. He did not have enough reasons, enough memories to feel jealous... and yet there was that nagging feeling of bitterness sipping through his thoughts at the realization that whatever illusions he had subconsciously nourished for so many months, were now irretrievably gone. And not only because Elizabeth was married to somebody else, but because her heart was taken.

She had said once where her heart laid, but it seemed that she herself was not aware of the meaning of her words at that time... When had her feelings changed? Had they changed? Or perhaps she was simply not listening to her heart before?

Like he had not listened to his...

James put his arm over his eyes, and took a deep breath, grateful for the scent of the sea in it. The closeness of the sea was always making him feel better, making him feel anchored, giving him the sense of belonging he craved, and somehow could not find anywhere else but at sea...

He had been postponing his heart's wishes for so long, trying to fulfill all the prerequisites that he had thought he had to meet in order to gain the right to his own happiness. There was always something left to be earned, to be gathered, and ensured before he would have considered himself prepared for making another step in his life.

Maybe if he had asked her to marry him earlier, they would have been married long before that fateful day in Port Royal when she had fallen from the Fort. Maybe then she would have never fallen... from the Fort and into Jack Sparrow's hands.

He frowned, and turned on his side, looking at the window and the dark curtain shivering in the warm wind. He just could not find it in himself to be angry. Why should he be angry? If there was anybody who should be angry it was that unfortunate William Turner. From the way he had looked upon hearing the news, he had not expected such a turn of events in the least, and he had felt a bit sorry for the man.

Yet, he thought that he himself should feel angry as well, and he tried to understand why he did not. She seemed very happy, he could tell that much even from that glimpse of her and Sparrow that he had seen in the Great Chamber when they had sat there together, so close, so focused on each other even when they were not looking at each other... And he was glad that she was happy. The question was, whether he was glad because he loved her that much that her happiness was all that mattered, or rather because he did not really love her...

Somewhere in the midst of his thoughts, he finally fell asleep, and when he woke up in the morning he was surprised to find himself suffering from a severe headache. He did not feel tired, and he had gotten some sleep, so...

But then he heard the noises and loud voices coming both from the inside and the outside of the building which seemed to serve as a sufficient justification for his headache.

* * *

"Sir, there is a-"

Will pushed his way through the guards, and stepped into the room, causing Mercer's eyes dart to him with cold annoyance.

Beckett looked up from his desk, eyebrows raised, as he shifted his eyes between the two men. "What an interesting visit," he said with a faint smile, giving Mercer almost indiscernible nod. The man slowly blinked, and left the room, his eyes sweeping over Will with assessing intensity.

Will waited until the door closed, and then turned back to Beckett. "And an unexpected one, I guess," he said with a faint sneer. He suddenly felt very tired, and for a moment he just wanted to turn around and leave, but somehow he knew that it was not possible, not after he had already come here.

"Unexpected?" Beckett pushed himself up to his feet, his facial expression guarded, but amused. "I would have been more surprised if-" he stopped in mid-sentence, catching an indeed unexpected sight in the small window.

Will tilted his head to the side, as Beckett stared out for a while at the sea and the ship lulling on the waves, before at last he turned to face Will.

"Is this, at least, unexpected?" asked Will with a hint of sardonic interest in his voice.

Beckett smiled. "Merely convenient," he said in a low, cool voice, stealing one more glance at the _Black Pearl_.

* * *

Governor Swann and Bill Turner listened to Gibbs in perfect silence, not interrupting him even once, hardly keeping up with the pace of his story, even though he tried to explain everything very clearly.

He had told them about the journey to the Locker, about finding Jack, about Tia Dalma sending Elizabeth to the past, and the problems with bringing her back, and finally about Jack's unexpected return from the dead.

"So she really was there," Bootstrap stared at his hands, his elbows resting on his knees.

The Governor looked at him, wondering how he could just so easily acknowledge such an impossible chain of events. Time travels. He snorted inwardly, half-heartedly, almost trying to convince himself that he was still not treating this story with too much seriousness, because it would certainly cause his mood to decrease even more.

"And ye've met her," Gibbs shook his head with a disbelieving smile. "It really was more than a dream, all of that, then."

Bill looked up, giving him a sad smile. "It seemed very much like a dream to me. They looked as if they were taken out of a fairy tale. Holding hands, feeding each other..." The Governor shifted his eyes to Bill. "At some point I forgot we were marooned there after the mutiny," he smiled weakly, feeling a twinge of pain at the memory of Will. "And she saved my life," he added in a whisper, staring into the distance. "Somehow..."

"Yes," Gibbs took a deep breath. "That actually makes sense. Miss Sw- Mrs. Sp-" he glanced at the Governor, and cleared his throat. "Mrs. Elizabeth told ye to jump off the ship, and that's why ye're alive. That's logical." Bootstrap raised his eyebrows. "More or less," amended Gibbs with a smile. "But why Jack woke up? I saw him, I checked his pulse... He was... gone."

"I think we should find them, and talk to them both," said Bill with a sigh.

"Yes," the Governor agreed quickly. "There is more than one reason for a long conversation," he wrinkled his forehead. "With both of them."

* * *

"Where is she?"

He knew the question must have sounded almost ridiculous... his voice almost pleading... his heart almost breaking, as if he already knew the answer, as if he already knew that whatever the answer was going to be it was not what he wanted to hear... and he just hoped it was something he could stand. Half of his mind began producing busily some unsubstantiated hypotheses, naive explanations, and he was on the verge of taking his question back when Teague gave him a long look, turned around, and walked into the darkness of the room behind him.

Jack stood for a moment watching the dark frame of the opened door, when it suddenly brightened, weak light shimmering in the shadows of the chamber.

Reluctantly, Jack stepped into the room, a dull headache already pulsating in his brows, and he was not sure whether the gust of cold air that suddenly enveloped him came from the half-open window or rather from within his heart.

Teague lighted one more candle, and sat it on the table next to another one, glancing at Jack with silent request for him to sit down, but he either did not understand the implication, or did not care about it well enough to listen, too preoccupied by his own thoughts that were both racing and circulating painfully slow in his mind.

Teague slumped into a chair, and put his guitar away, the gesture catching Jack's attention, his eyes darting warily to his father's face. "Do you know where she is?" he asked, eyeing the large book that lay on the table, a brown, tattered cover looking as if it shimmered between shaky shadows cast by the candles.

Teague's answer was mercilessly short. "No," he glanced up at Jack, whose face was unreadable, still, and pale – too pale – in the dusky orange light.

"Why it is so dark here?" he muttered, taking a few steps toward the curtained window, and away from his father's answer.

"Leave it," Teague's voice stopped him before he let the daylight flow into the room.

Jack froze. _"Leave it." _He could feel her lips brushing against his as if she was standing right in front of him, married to him, chained to him; _unloseable_.

He swirled around almost angrily. "I have to find her. If-" his voice faded away when Teague's eyes met his, and for a moment he wished to see the well-known anger in his father's eyes, a familiar flash of fury, a well-remembered irritation and impatience. But instead he could only see sadness and compassion, and it ignited fury in him.

Without a word, he headed for the door, running away from the words that caught him despite his efforts to flee.

"She is not here, but... she is somewhere." Jack stopped in his tracks, but did not turn. "She knew it was going to happen. She had a demeanor of a condemned man," Teague slowly ran his hand across the cover of the book. "Bravery of hopelessness," he whispered pensively. "I can't see her, but I can sense her-" he said in a whisper, but Jack interrupted him.

"Do ye know where she is, or not?"

Teague looked up when Jack was already across from him at the table, hands splayed on the surface, as he was looking down at both the book and his father.

"If there is anybody who can find out what happened to her, it is ye," said Teague slowly, holding Jack's gaze.

"Where is my daughter?"

Jack turned around, and Teague looked up finding Governor Swann, Bill Turner and Gibbs already in the room, standing by the door, and looking at them questioningly.

* * *

"_You have blood on your hands. Taking lives should not be difficult for you."_

Elizabeth sat on the bed, staring at her hands, her eyes red from crying, her hair hanging loosely over her shoulders, curtaining her face. She felt like on that day when she was going to marry Will, and she was waiting for him in the rain, already knowing that something was wrong, not knowing what it was, but feeling that even if she would have known, there was nothing she could have done about it.

But now it was worse. Now she knew what was happening. She brought her fate upon herself, there was nobody to blame. If she had not killed Jack, she would not have had to make the deal with Death to bring him back. And she had had to bring him back, because... She looked at the silver ring at her finger, and grimaced. Because she loved him. It was something she should cling to... the light that would carry her across the darkness.

"It is time to go."

She looked up, startled. A pair of colorless eyes studied her face, and she wondered for how long he had been standing there, watching her. Slowly, she rose to her feet.

"What if I refuse?" she asked, her facial expression hardening. She knew that he must have noticed that she had been crying, but there was no reason to appear helpless in front of him.

A small smile flickered across his pale lips. "You are here for your own reasons. If you wish to break our agreement..." he paused, squinting, as if expecting her to interrupt him, but she listened to him in silence. "I shall not keep you here against your will," he took a step toward her. "You may leave," he took another step, and Elizabeth instinctively stepped back. "You may refuse," he tilted his head to the side, as if amused by her efforts to move away from him. "But then I will take those two lives you wanted to save back to the world of the dead." He studied her face, and smiled inwardly, seeing in her eyes no indication that she knew about one little detail... He had wondered if somehow she had figured that out, or at least started suspecting something, but apparently she was not aware of the fact that one of the two men she had wanted to save had come back to life without his interference... And even though he had acknowledged that strange incident in front of Chronos, he was not going to tell the girl about it, as it might have influenced the level of her determination to keep to the agreement she had made.

Elizabeth tucked her hair behind her ears, shooting him a cold glare. "I don't know how can I make people cross the border between life and death, if I'm not Death," she said after a pause, trying to suppress the feeling of dread at the idea that Jack's life could be easily taken away from him again, if she would fail to fulfill her part of the agreement. She just hoped she would be strong enough to survive twenty years here.

Right after the man had told her what she was expected to do, she had thought that he had wanted her to murder people, and when she had told him that she was not going to do that, he had only smiled, telling her that she had misunderstood him. He had explained to her that her task was not of such _foul nature_ – he did not want her to _kill _people, but merely _take _their lives _away _from them when it was their time to pass away. Then he had left her, promising to be back shortly.

And now he was back, and Elizabeth was not sure if she was more scared, or more relieved that soon she was going to find out what it felt like to be _taking lives away_, because she wanted to know if it was something she was able to endure. For a moment she thought that it might not be that hard... or that terrible; but the longer she looked into the man's unmoving, coldly calm eyes, the more she feared that perhaps she was underestimating the task...

"You are not Death indeed," his voice shook her out of her reverie, and she shuddered, suddenly noticing that he had moved closer to her when she was not paying attention. "But you are," he brought his hand to her face, and Elizabeth wanted to step away from him, but he grasped her shoulders, and pulled her toward him, "my bride."

She stiffened, and stared at him wide-eyed, but then she allowed a small sneer flicker across her lips. "I'm married," she said distinctly, in a low voice. "It doesn't matter what ring I wear. I'm married to my husband who is most certainly not you."

To her puzzlement, he returned her sneer, his grip on her shoulders tightening. "It doesn't matter whose wife you are," he leaned down, and Elizabeth tilted her head backwards abruptly. "As long as you are here, you are my bride," he looked in her eyes, and Elizabeth did her best not to scream, not to let her fear show on her face, as she tried to retain a guarded facial expression, even though she doubted that the look in her eyes was not giving her fears away. She tried to think of something she could do or say if he tried to kiss her. If she hit him... would he feel it? If she screamed... would he care? Would she be strong enough to push him away? Was there anything she could say to stop him?

But to her relief all those questions proved irrelevant, because soon he let go of her, and turned around, opening the door, and motioning for her to follow him.

"Somebody is on the verge of death. Somebody's soul is waiting. It's time to go," he said, staring into the distance, and for a moment she wished she could see what he saw, for there was a sudden flicker of light that flashed in his eyes, that seemed to turn his colorless eyes into two stars as colorful as the most beautiful rainbows. "Elizabeth?"

She shivered at the use of her name, and pursed her lips angrily. "It's Mrs. Sparrow," she said through her gritted teeth.

He smiled, his eyes blank again, his hand outstretched toward her. "Mrs. Sparrow."

She ignored his hand, and quickly walked past him, wondering if he only pretended not to be bothered by her arrogance, or perhaps he was playing his own game, in which she was already placed on the losing position.

* * *

Jack gritted his teeth, coldness creeping over him at the question, and his inability to answer it. Where was Elizabeth? Where was his _wife_? He should know that, he - of all people should know that. But he did not. He had no idea where she was; he, who should keep her safe, he, who should prove that he deserved her. And now her father was asking where she was, and he had no answer to give him. He was arrogant enough to marry her without asking for her father's permission, without even informing him about it, but apparently he was not responsible enough to keep her safe. The very basic thing, something that should not be even considered worth mentioning, because it was natural, obvious; vital.

"Where is my daughter?" the Governor took a few steps toward Teague and Jack, who kept looking at the Governor with a stony face, unable to utter a word.

What could he say? That she would be back any minute - something that he himself so desperately wanted to believe. But somehow he felt that something bad had happened. He tried to recall every minute with her, attempting to catch a glimpse of something unusual in her behaviour, some kind of hint...

Was all her behaviour, lately, not a hint? Now that he thought about it... She was so sincere, so... desperate. Or was he just overinterpreting everything now? Looking for the clues that were not there...

"_Nothing will take ye away from me, luv. I've lost ships, and souls, but I won't lose you, I promise you that."_

"_Shhh. Don't say that."_

"Jack?" Gibbs wrinkled his forehead worriedly, not knowing what to think about the strange silence that fell in the room.

Teague pushed himself up to his feet. "Let us all sit," he said, shifting his eyes from his son to the Governor, whose eyes were fixed on Jack.

"It must have something to do with the fact that we're alive," said Bill Turner in a low voice, slowly walking toward the table.

Teague tilted his head to the side, and regarded Bill with narrowed eyes. Jack darted his eyes to him. "What do ye mean?" he asked sharply, every moment of Elizabeth's absence making her absence more irritating, more painful, more real.

"Do ye remember when we were marooned on that island," Bill stopped in the middle of the room, staring thoughtfully into the distance. "Everything was well, until Elizabeth started seeing something..."

Jack knitted his eyebrows, his eyes fixed on Bill whose words sent cold shivers up his spine.

"_Why does it matter? It's just... a small change, a life saved, it won't do no harm to anybody!"_

"She was talking to somebody," said Jack in a hollow voice, his eyes widening as the memories came flowing back to him. He had tried to forget all those 'dreams', because they were reminding him about what he could not have had... But now he knew that they were not dreams.

He took a deep breath, still not feeling comfortable with the realization... He needed to think about everything that happened _in the past _once again. He wanted to remember everything.

"Yes," Bill nodded, shifting his gaze to Jack. "She was talking with somebody before she disappeared..."

"_I don't care what happens to me. Just save them. Both of them. They are both dead." _

"She was talking about us," said Jack, hardly hearing his own voice through the high-pitched, piercing noise that reverberated in his ears.

"Aye," Bill pressed his hand to his forehead, and grimaced. "And she said something about-" he looked at Jack, who met his gaze, eyes wide from shock and anxiety.

"About the price," finished Jack, putting his hands to his head, his heart racing. "What has she done," he whispered, his lips barely moving. "What the hell has she done," he repeated, remembering how in the past it had already frightened him that she had mentioned 'price' in what he had considered at that time to be only her feverish ramblings. "What have ye done, Lizzie," he repeated once again in a barely audible whisper.

Governor Swann listened to the entire conversation in silence, the terrifying thought that something bad had happened to Elizabeth suddenly materializing almost in front of his eyes.

Teague shifted his eyes between Bill and Jack, his hand absently brushing the cover of the book on the table, as if mistaking it for the strings of his guitar.

"There is only one force that she could ask to bring dead people back to life, if this is what she did," he said in a low, solemn voice.

Everybody's eyes darted to Teague, but he dropped his gaze to the book that sat on the table.

"No, she didn't," Jack shook his head almost unconsciously, even before Teague's words fully registered in his mind, but then suddenly he paled, and Teague's face twitched at the change in his son's face.

Jack looked away, his blood freezing in his veins at the recollection. "She asked about-" he licked his suddenly very dry lips. "She asked me once about the Maelstrom of Time."

"Holy Heaven," Gibbs quickly crossed himself, receiving a frightened and questioning look from Governor Swann.

"Ah," Teague said pensively, slumping into his chair. "So here it is."

"That's not possible," said Jack quickly with a forced, broken chuckle, trying to make himself believe once again that the reason for Elizabeth's interest in the Maelstrom of Time was only her curiosity, but he remembered all too well the desperate look in her eyes, the look that betrayed more than curiosity, and he could not believe now that he had missed the strange urgency in her voice when she had pressed him to tell her what the Maelstrom of Time was. "This is not... It can't..."

"If she is in the Maelstrom of Time, there is a way of reaching her there."

Jack shifted his eyes to Teague, unable to believe that they were really talking about the Maelstrom of Time. It was merely a legend, one of the many tales that he knew, recounted, did not care much about... And he was almost angry at Teague that he was talking about it as if it was the most usual thing on Earth, as if it was _comprehensible_, while it was not. Only a few moments ago he had woken up with his wife in his arms, her skin warm and soft against his... She could not just disappear, she could not be gone just like that, she could not...

"_I want you to know something, Jack. Only death could take me away from you."_

"Lizzie," he whispered, oblivious to the fact that he had said this aloud.

The Governor looked at him, rendered speechless by the expression on his face. He wanted to demand explanation as to what had happened, what had happened to Elizabeth, and how could that have happened to her, but the look of pure dismay, of fear, dread, and despair on Jack's face stopped him. _He loves her_, he thought, not remembering if he had already realized that before; but even if he had, right now he not only realized it, but saw it in the man's face, in his eyes; heard it in his voice, and somehow it made his heart clench, and he decided to leave him alone, and address Teague instead:

"How can we find my daughter?"

Teague smiled faintly. "There is a way," he said opening the book, the heavy cover hitting the surface of the table with a low thud. "A man can be brought back from the Maelstrom of Time," Teague followed a black line on one of the pages with his tarred finger, "only by his enemy," Teague's voice snapped Jack back into the reality, which seemed to engulf him to the point at which he felt as if he was being strangled by it.

"Enemy?" Bill Turner ran his hand across his forehead. "Why would anybody risk such a journey for an enemy?"

Gibbs sighed. "Doesn't seem to be a way."

The Governor was about to ask what was the Maelstrom of Time. Was it some place to which Elizabeth had been taken? Had she been abducted? By whom? What for?"

"And who is an enemy?" Jack's voice resounded in the room, attracting general attention.

Gibbs wrinkled his forehead, and glanced at Teague, quite puzzled by a small smile that flickered across his lips. "Who is an enemy?" he repeated Jack's question, glancing at Bill and the Governor to see if they understood Jack's strange inquiry, but they seemed as confused as he.

"If you killed somebody, and this person never told you that he forgave you for what you had done... does it make you an enemy of this person?" Jack looked at Teague, who nodded slowly.

"Sounds like a good definition to me," he said quietly.


	39. Chapter 39

A/N: _**Thank you so much for all the wonderful reviews! **_**:)**

...I'm finished with my exams, so from now on we are back to updates twice a week:)

Disclaimer: PotC belong to Disney.

**Chapter 39**

It struck Will as odd, when Beckett walked across the deck of the _Black Pearl_ as if he expected to be stopped in his tracks at any moment. His eyes scanned the ship warily, and he carefully slid his hand along the railing as he walked down the stairs leading below deck. Followed by Will, he slowly crossed the corridor, and went straight to the Captain's Quarters, and when he pushed the door open Will felt a twinge of something strange piercing through his heart.

Sense of guilt?

He snorted inwardly with irritated bitterness. Should he be the one feeling guilty? After what had happened? After _she_ had left him, betrayed him, forgotten him... without a word of explanation, without a warning-

Or perhaps he should have considered that kiss that he had witnessed, before the Kraken had swallowed the _Pearl_, a warning? Was it not a very clear warning? Was it not the moment when he should have done something?

If it had been not too late already.

He kept seeing that scene in his mind's eye, and the more he thought about it, the better he remembered it; and the clearer the memory was becoming, the more apparent it seemed that she was not his at that point already.

At that point... And he could remember only too vividly how she had kept talking about Jack during the year of their quiescent engagement. Only he had not seen anything suspicious in that. They had just, after all, gone through a strenuous, incredible adventure, and it had seemed natural that they had talked about it... that Elizabeth had talked about it... that she had kept telling him what she had read about Jack, how what she had read differed, and how it was similar to the real Jack Sparrow they had met.

The truth was, he had never seen that coming. He had not thought her capable of betraying him, of loving somebody else, of loving Jack Sparrow - especially Jack Sparrow, as he had been taking for granted that she was smart enough to know that he was no man to give her heart to, because he was unwilling, or perhaps even unable to keep a woman's heart safe; unable to fully give her his own in return, for that matter.

And yet it seemed that he had been wrong all along, that he had overestimated Elizabeth's loyalty and innocence, and that he had underestimated Jack's determination to win the heart of a Governor's daughter... because a part of him still believed that it was all that there was to it – that it was not love, at least on Jack's side, but lust and vanity that had made him steal Elizabeth from him. As for her...

Will stepped into the _Black Pearl_'s Captain's Quarters where Beckett was preoccupied with a sluggish perusal of Jack's desk.

Maybe Elizabeth did love Jack... or at least sincerely believed that she did, deceived by his charm, enchanted by his wit, enthralled by the gilded legend of his past, intoxicated by the prospect of being a part of his unpredictable future, dazzled by danger.

It kept surprising him how she was never scared of anything in a usual sense of the word... Even if she was afraid, there was always, also, a grain of fascination in her fear, and that was why she rarely stepped away from troubles, but rather headed straight into the fire, mesmerized by what he always considered undesirable: lack of certainty.

Beckett's quiet snort shook Will out of his reverie, and he narrowed his eyes, focusing on what Beckett was taking out of Jack's desk's drawer.

Jack's drawer... Despite everything what had happened he could not help but finding Beckett's presence on the _Black Pearl_ slightly odd... slightly wrong... slightly... out of place.

He blinked, and quickly walked over to the desk.

"Interesting, isn't it?" Beckett glanced at him, taking some drawings out of the desk's drawer, and throwing the pieces of paper on the desk one by one with growing carelessness mixed with well-concealed annoyance.

Will stared in stupefaction at the ever growing number of drawings on the desk: large and small, full portraits, face portraits, numerous sketches of eyes, lips, hands... His eyes almost could not keep up with the pace at which the new pictures were incessantly appearing on the wooden surface that was already completely covered with the pieces of paper. It struck him how accurate those drawings were – she seemed so real, so tangible on each of them, regardless whether she was smiling, or if her facial expression was pensive, or grim, regardless whether she was portrayed in a dress, or in men's clothes, or- His breath hitched involuntarily at the sight of a drawing depicting her on the bed with her hair falling over her shoulders and only half-covering-

He snatched the paper out of Beckett's hand angrily.

"For your fiancée's honor's sake I hope these were not drawn from nature," said Beckett with a glimpse of cool amusement in his eyes, regarding Will intently.

Will crumpled the paper in his hand, his eyes wandering over the desk, and all the portraits of Elizabeth, of his Elizabeth... They could have been married by now... They might have...

"She is not my fiancée," he said sharply.

Beckett tilted his head to the side, an almost imperceptible smile flitting across his lips. "Has Miss Swann... fallen for these... shreds of _admiration_?" he asked sardonically, reaching for more drawings.

"Neither is she Miss Swann anymore," said Will somberly, with growing irritation. How many drawings there were? A hundred? A thousand? It seemed that the number was infinite. When had Jack drawn them? When had he had the time? Surely not after they had brought him back from the Locker. Earlier, then. How much earlier? Since when? And then he remembered that it was an entire year between his untimely assistance in Jack's escape from the gallows, and Beckett's even more untimely arrival in Port Royal. So he had been thinking about Elizabeth for all that time. So he had... he did...

"Ah," Beckett cautiously lifted one of the drawings between his fingers, and looked at it, smiling palely. "Shall I congratulate you, Mr. Turner?" he asked with wary indifference.

"Congratulate Jack when you see him," snapped Will irately.

Beckett's eyes darted to him, and a look of surprise crossed his face before he managed to withhold it. "Him and his wife," added Will answering Beckett's questioning gaze.

He looked as if the news did not make any impression on him, but there was a glimpse of some strange emotion in his eyes that Will could not identify. "His wife," repeated Beckett after a pause, putting the drawing away. "Fate intervened, then," he said with a small, faint sneer, looking back at the desk, and scanning the collection of drawings there. Will wrinkled his forehead in confusion, but said nothing. "That's even better," Beckett said in a whisper, running his hand over one of the sketches absently.

A sound of the sword being unsheathed redirected his attention from the drawings. He looked up with deliberate sluggishness, coming face to face with the point of Will's sword.

"Elizabeth is not to be harmed," said Will, pressing the tip of the blade to Beckett's neck, looking into his eyes with grim intensity. Beckett's gaze remained cool, his facial expression oscillating between amusement and annoyance.

"Who do you think you are?" he said at last, swatting the sword away in such a quick gesture that for the first time Will thought that there was unknown amount of violent viciousness behind the mask of the man's unchangeably composed face. "Do you think you will dictate me what I should do, just because I brought this ship to me to satisfy your adolescent urge for revenge?" He took a few intimidating steps forward, and Will subconsciously stepped back, irritated by the thought that had just crossed his mind that he had just done something incredibly... stupid.

He should not have come here. He should have just taken the _Pearl_ as far away as he could, and then let those several crew members that he had threatened when overtaking the ship go free, and leave the ship to rot away in some secluded bay. That would not have gotten him into trouble as much as bringing the _Black Pearl_ to Beckett did.

The sword in his hand suddenly felt so useless... He wished everything could be solved in a fair fight. Or even in a not so fair fight. Just in a fight in which everybody fought with their own hands for their own cause. He just could not decipher what Beckett was fighting for. But whatever that was, it was not to be gained in a fight, but in some strange, tangled confrontation made out of words of malice, and deceptive actions, and that was something Will did not know much of – nor wanted to have anything to do with.

Commandeering the _Pearl_, and bringing it to this man seemed suddenly so ridiculous that it gave him an immediate headache. He was putting in danger not only himself (and he could not care less about himself that he did at the moment), not only Elizabeth, but also her father who had always been more than kind to him, his own father, Gibbs, and others who could not be blamed for Elizabeth and Jack's... what exactly was it?... An act of betrayal? Of deception? Duplicity?

...Love?...

"You still don't know where Shipwreck Cove is," said Will coldly, but as soon as he said it, he suddenly felt even more cold at the realization what he had just said in his careless effort to assure his position in the situation.

"Shipwreck Cove," echoed Beckett slowly, savouring the words. "So this is where they meet. Very well. I guess we shall lose no more time for idle conversations and head right there?"

Will's thoughts were racing, and he felt as if he was falling down into the dark abyss, desperately trying to notice something to hold on to, and keep himself from falling. "They've already declared war on you and they'll be here sooner than you think," he said, not really knowing what he wanted to convey with those words.

Beckett smiled faintly. "Do they believe they have a chance? No doubt they are all mad," he said with a condescending snort, glancing around the cabin. "It seems," he continued, before Will had a chance to speak, "You left Mr. and Mrs. Sparrow, and all the others without their flag ship," he said with mild amusement.

"_I will not abandon you."_

Will stared at him, hardly noticing the stinging pain caused by _Mrs. Sparrow_, too preoccupied by the overwhelming feeling of guilt and regret for leaving... and in such a manner. His eyes snapped to the drawings, to those silent, hopeless love confessions that were making him both angry and in some odd way compassionate. He remembered his own sleepless nights when he had dreamt about her – safely out of reach, painfully unreachable... Only he thought that it had been only him, not brave enough to try and win her heart. And here he was looking at the very proofs of Captain Jack Sparrow being similarly cowardly when it came to Elizabeth.

Now at least he was certain that when Jack had sent him on the _Flying Dutchman_ he had really meant for him to get lost, he thought bitterly.

But thinking about the _Flying Dutchman_ inevitably led him to thinking about his father, and the sense of guilt washed over him once again with overpowering force.

"What is it?"

Beckett's voice shook Will out of his reverie, and he looked over his shoulder to see whom Beckett was addressing.

"We found something in the brig, Sir," said Mercer in a low, blank voice, shooting Will that assessing glance that was always giving him an odd impression as if the man was measuring him for a coffin...

* * *

"Jack, are you sure it works that way?" asked Gibbs hesitantly, looking between Jack and Teague, who was studying one of the pages of his book intently.

Jack shot him an annoyed look. "An' what in yer opinion is wrong with that?"

"Well," Gibbs rubbed his forehead, "does the fact that ye didn't _say _that ye forgave her makes ye-"

"Mr. Gibbs," Jack interrupted him, and Gibbs straightened up. "If ye happen to be in possession of any other brilliant plan that could possibly help us find my wife, do not make us die in anticipation to hear it."

Gibbs smiled sheepishly, and took a step away from the table. Jack scanned the room, his eyes sweeping over the Governor who had been listening to everything in silence. There was something distressing in his presence, because his presence, in some strange way was making Elizabeth's absence painfully real.

"Ye know there is only one way to get into the Maelstrom of Time," Teague's voice drifted into Jack's thoughts, and his eyes darted to his father, after making a mental note to talk with the Governor before all the hell would break lose – before the war would start, before he would set out for his journey.

"Through the Locker," murmured Bill Turner, looking away.

Gibbs wrinkled his forehead, and glanced at Jack who stared at the book on the table with a stony face. There was a moment of silence, all eyes openly or surreptitiously shifting to Jack, who tapped his fingers on the table, slowly looking up to meet Teague's darkly radiant gaze. He ran his hand over the page of the book absently, as if brushing the dust off it, his eyes acquiring a glimpse of strangely determined brightness. "And only one way to get into the Locker, aye?" he asked with a small, sour smile, looking back at the yellowed page of the book.

"The Locker?"

Everybody turned around to find James standing in the doorway with a grimly puzzled look on his face.

* * *

She refused to give him her hand, even though when he repeated his request for the fourth time she began to think that perhaps there was a good reason to do that... But she was not going to change the decision once made, so at last he gave up, and let her walk through one of the doors in the long corridor alone.

She stepped into the darkness, not even suspecting that there was nowhere to step... She screamed, but her scream seemed to get lost in the space as she was falling across the dark air, which felt suffocatingly humid, and yet it was making her feel cold to the point at which she stopped feeling her fingers and her toes. She had an impression she was slowly freezing, even though she felt as if she was falling surrounded by the intolerably hot mist.

The time seemed broken... she was not able to tell how long it took her to suddenly reach solid ground. Suddenly, she found herself lying on the hard surface, even though she could not remember hitting the ground – there was only pain in every fibre of her body, a strange sensation of burning coldness that seemed to be coursing through her veins, reaching every part of her, and she struggled to fight the numbness in her mind that were slowly deafening her thoughts, making her feel as if she was losing consciousness at an impossibly slow rate.

"You should have taken my hand, Mrs. Sparrow."

His voice reverberated in her head, making no sense, and she opened her eyes – or at least believed that she did, because she still could not see anything.

"It always feels unpleasant at the beginning. You will get used to it."

Elizabeth wanted to protest when she felt him lifting her from the ground, but could not bring herself to do it, her hands and legs suddenly feeling too heavy to move. She had an impression that she was saying something, but somehow her words remained inaudible.

"Open your eyes, Elizabeth." The man in the grey coat sat Elizabeth down against the wall, and cupped her face in his hands, watching her face intently. "Open your eyes," he repeated tonelessly, and although she could hear him, and she tried to open her eyes, all she could see was the infinite blackness.

"I can't," she whispered, almost choking on the words, the movement of her lips causing a piercing pain in her body to intensify.

"You are giving in. That will take you nowhere," he said blankly, the warmth of her face under the palms of his hands feeling unexpectedly strange.

They all had been alive - warm because of the inner light that shone through their skin, showed in their faces, pulsated in their veins... And yet every time he touched any of them the sensation was new and unknown, and he could not decide whether it was more fascinating or unsettling.

"I'm nowhere," mouthed Elizabeth, and he narrowed his eyes at her.

"If you won't fight it, you will die," he said, letting go of her face, but seeing that her head lulled to the side uncontrollably, he cupped her face again, accidentally touching loose strands of her hair, and shivering at the strange softness of them.

Everything was strange about her; everything was different.

_Maybe I want to die_, thought Elizabeth, feeling the darkness swirling around her, sucking her in, sucking her breath out of her, and it hurt, it hurt so much that she wished it would just stop – even if it meant that everything else would stop along with it.

But then, something sparkled in the darkness, something moved, and she felt as if all her thoughts rushed toward that light, and suddenly she heard, _felt _a different voice encompassing her like a cloud of sweet smoke, like a black cloud made of-

"_... I could in fact perform a marr-i-age."_

_She looked into his eyes, a smirk hovering over his lips as he waited for her answer. There was sun reflected in his trinkets, light in his eyes, and mystery in the lines of his face, and she subconsciously reached out and cupped his face in her hands. He blinked in surprise, but did not move, letting her explore his face with her soft hands._

"_I miss you so much," she whispered, and he frowned, perplexed._

"_Lizzie?..."_

And then the voices and the images dispersed into the blackness again, but the blackness also disappeared, leaving only the feeling of numbness that slowly faded away.

Elizabeth opened her eyes, half-hoping to see-

She angrily brushed his hands off her face, and staggered to her feet with a groan. "Don't touch me!" she shouted, and cringed at the echo that resounded around her with unexpected force.

With an unmoving face, the man rose to his feet, ignoring Elizabeth's outburst completely. "We're late," he said, reaching for her hand so swiftly, that she only noticed it when his fingers closed around her wrist, but before she managed to free herself, some door behind her that she had not noticed before opened, and a strong gust of wind almost caused her to lose her balance, and if it was not for the man's hand, she would have probably crashed against the opposite wall with full force. He used the hold on her hand to tug her toward him, and pulled her with him over the doorstep.

Elizabeth shielded her eyes with her other hand, as the blinding light hit her sight as soon as she stepped through the door. She expected another wave of pain and dark abyss, but instead as soon as both her feet touched the ground the wind quietened down, and everything around them went still.

She looked around, puzzled by the view. They were standing in front of the small house that sat in the middle of a meadow shadowed by the beautiful forest that surrounded it. The late afternoon sun was shining through the branches casting glimpses of gold on the dusty ground. It was very quiet, except for the muffled sound coming from the inside of the house.

Elizabeth wrinkled her forehead, trying to recognize the sound, astounded by the strangely ordinary setting – too preoccupied by the sudden change to notice that her hand was still clasped in the man's hand.

She shivered, when he pulled her toward the door, and she opened her mouth to speak, when to her stupefaction he walked through the door without opening them. And only when he was already pulling her with him she noticed that she was also walking through the closed door...

A woman ran across the corridor right in front of her, and Elizabeth gasped in surprise both by the woman's sudden appearance, and by the fact that the woman apparently had not noticed her...

And then it dawned at her why she hadn't...

"She didn't see me," Elizabeth whispered to herself, staring at the door leading to the room where the woman had gone, and from where the crying was coming from.

There was something peculiar about the crying, and after a moment she realized what it was. It was the crying of a child.

"His hour has come," said the man in a blank voice, and Elizabeth swirled around to face him, startled by the glimpse of iridescence in his colorless eyes. He outstretched his hand, as if he was going to offer it to her, but then changed his mind, and just indicated the door with it.

* * *

"Elizabeth is in danger!?" James jumped to his feet from the chair in which he had been encouraged to sit by Gibbs.

Jack rolled his eyes. It was beginning to be really annoying how all those people seemed always vitally interested in _his wife_'s whereabouts. Once he got her back, he was going to take care of that, and tell all the whelps, commodores, fathers and everybody else to go to hell and leave worrying about _his wife _to him.

"This is beyond the scope of yer interest," answered Jack sternly. "As the Pirate King it would be very helpful if ye just could be as kind as to take care of-" Jack's trailed off, and squinted in irritation at James' sword suddenly appearing in a dangerously close proximity to his nose.

"What did you do with her?" asked James through his gritted teeth, his eyes fixed on Jack with utmost solemnity.

Jack stared at him as if he had not heard his question.

"I don't think-" started Gibbs hesitantly.

"Maybe you'd forced her to marry you, and then she ran away to escape your claws," James' eyes wandered around Jack's face searchingly, his voice becoming harder as he spoke.

Gibbs shook his head with a grimace in silent protest, but before he managed to interfere in some reconciliatory manner, Jack drew out his sword, causing James to take a step back, but not succeeding in trying to knock the sword out of his hand with his swiftly applied strike.

"You don't know anything about it, so it would be better if you could just keep your frustrated thoughts to yourself, Commodore" said Jack in a low voice, as their swords clashed, despite Gibbs' and Bill's attempts to stop the fight from ensuing. "Or is it Admiral?" he sneered briefly.

"All I know is that last I've seen of her she was with you, and now she is gone," said James in a steely voice. "And I thought it's King," he added humorlessly with unmoving face.

"For hell's sake," growled Barbossa suddenly entering the room, and huffing irately at the sight of what clearly looked as the beginning of a duel. "I don't think we should be wasting time for this," he said angrily. "We need a ship, and we have to set sail, because nearly everybody else already did," he snapped.

Jack and James looked at him with their swords still aimed at each other.

"If there will be a battle now, how do we... rescue Elizabeth?" Governor Swann paled at the sudden realization that all those people apparently had higher priorities that rescuing his daughter from the Maelstrom of Time (whatever that was) now, while he, despite his willingness to do everything that was necessary, did not know what to do.

"Elizabeth is in the Maelstrom of Time, the entrance to the Maelstrom of Time is in the Locker," said Jack, putting away his sword, and addressing the Governor directly for the very first time. "I will," he swallowed, and looked Elizabeth's father straight in the eye, "I will bring her back," he repeated in a lower, but firmer voice, holding the Governor's gaze for a moment.

James slowly shifted his eyes between the two men. "Is there any other way to get to the Locker but being sent there by Jones?" he asked, glancing at Barbossa who was growing impatient with the conversation which had nothing to do with anything that interested him at the moment.

Jack glanced at James, but said nothing.

"Take _Silver Frenzy_," Teague pushed himself to his feet, and closed the book.

Barbossa scanned the room impatiently, and stormed out off the room.

"I guess... we'll be going," said Gibbs cautiously.

James reluctantly sheathed his sword, and walked over to the Governor. Teague took a few heavy steps toward Jack, and ignoring the wary look that Jack gave him, put his hand on his arm.

"Just don't make any more foolish deals, Jackie," he said in a humming whisper.

Jack's mouth twitched in annoyance. "First I have to actually have the opportunity to make them."

James glanced over his shoulders, catching the brief exchange, and then slowly averted his eyes with a thoughtful frown.

* * *

The room was unnecessarily bright, the curtains were drawn to the sides carelessly, and a few superfluous candles flickered ominously on the table. A young woman was sitting on the edge of the bed with her hands placed on either side of her child's face.

A small boy lay on the bed with his eyes closed, breathing heavily through his parted lips. He could not be older than six, his little face glowing feverishly in the orange sun of the warm afternoon.

"Don't cry, sweetheart," whispered the woman leaning down, her own eyes red from crying, her voice trembling. The child shook, either from the fever or from the sob that escaped his lips almost involuntarily. Wet traces of fresh tears were staining his red cheeks, despite his mother's soothing words. "Please," the woman glanced at the doctor who stood by the bed looking at her compassionately. "Please," she repeated, putting her hand over the boy's sweating forehead, and then slowly stroking his hair.

"As I said, there is nothing-" the doctor started in a low voice, but stopped at the pained expression on the woman's face.

"He is strong, he just..." she looked at her child. "I'm sure," she whispered, swallowing her tears. "There must be something," her mouth twitched in a nervous smile. "Please," she looked at the doctor pleadingly, but he only looked away, frowning.

Elizabeth stood in the middle of the room staring at the woman and the the little boy with wide eyes. She felt her heart clenching at the sight. The pain she felt during the strange fall just a few moments ago seemed nothing in comparison to the despair of the young mother. She watched the scene in silence, almost afraid to breathe, even though she knew that neither the woman nor the doctor could not see her.

Or him.

Elizabeth glanced over her shoulder when the man took a step forward, and moved to stand on her side, his eyes fixed on the child.

"You can't do this," whispered Elizabeth looking intensely at his profile, his face as pale as always despite the orange light of the setting sun coming from the window.

He did not answer, just watched the boy who gasped, and grimaced, clutching the bed cover with his small hands.

"You can't," repeated Elizabeth in a more resolute voice, encouraged by his lack of response, wondering if he was considering-

"It's in his fate," he said at last tonelessly, cutting off Elizabeth's hopeful thoughts.

She looked at the women who was cupping the child's feverish face in her trembling hands, leaning down, and placing a soft kiss on her little son's burning forehead.

"No. You can't," Elizabeth shook her head, cold shivers running up her spine at the sound of the woman's quivering voice in which she whispered some senselessly reassuring words to her son, who began tossing, and moaning under his breath.

"I won't," said the man, shifting his colorless eyes to Elizabeth, and before she had a chance to even consider taking his answer for a good sign, he added. "_You_ will."


	40. Chapter 40

A/N: _**Thank you so much for all the fantastic reviews! **_**:)**

Disclaimer: Jack, Elizabeth, etc. belong to Disney.

**Chapter 40**

It was going to be the first morning in the endless sequence of breezy mornings, sea-sprayed days, starlit evenings, humid nights-

Jack gritted his teeth wondering why he even came here at all.

_Ah._

He grabbed his hat, and headed for the door, wishing to get out of the room as fast as possible. He could still feel her presence in the air, the scent of her hair lingering everywhere, the shape of her head impressed in the pillow, the cover thrown over the edge of the bed by her hand...

She was right there, right here, so close... she was. He had fallen asleep with her arms around him, her lips pressed to his chest, as if inhaling his heartbeat, and if he had not been so tired he would not have slept at all, but look at her for the entire night.

But he had fallen asleep, drifted into oblivion in the misleading certainty of permanent happiness.

He really should have known better. After all he had been through. Where did he even get the notion of permanence in the first place? Was it his own mind playing tricks on him, or was it just the insurmountable charm of her voice that had given him that strange hope – that unforgivable certainty – that it would have lasted forever.

"_Take me, keep me, don't let me go, don't let me go, Jack."_

He squeezed his eyes closed, and stormed out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him. Leaning against the wall he inhaled deeply, and opened his eyes, suddenly noticing that he was holding Elizabeth's carmine dress in his hands. He could not even remember when he had taken it. He only remembered putting his hat on.

He stared at dress with unseeing eyes, overwhelmed by the memories that were engulfing him with unbearable intensity. She had known. For the entire time she had known that it would have come to this. She had known that she would have been gone – because of him.

For him.

She had gone into the past to see him... she had thought he had been lost forever. He could remember with surprising clarity her strange behaviour _in the past_, how she had kept bursting into tears, apologizing... If he had only known... If she had only told him...

And then she had brought him back to life, she had sacrificed herself, and never said a word. She had killed him in the first place, true. But what she had done to redo the consequences of her actions exceeded any kind of atonement he could have thought of.

Leaning his head against the wall he recalled bitterly his treatment of her when she had woken up. All those harsh words he had said, threats...

"_Merely a victim, luv. The worst enemy of all."_

And she was already on the other side – now he had seen that glimpse of despair in her eyes, of resignation. He wished he could have turned back time, and...

He did not even know when he should have intervened, but he just wished he had known... earlier, when there was still time to do something. Why hadn't she told him anything? Or at least had given him some kind of sign that could have signaled to him that something was wrong. Unless she had... and he just had not noticed...

Subconsciously, he brought the dress to his face, and buried his face in the red fabric. He should have expected something like that to happen. Every time he felt so blissfully sure of himself something went awry. He should have known... He should have been more cautious, more careful, more-

"The ship is waiting."

Jack looked up abruptly, taking the dress away from his face, and meeting James' intent gaze.

"Let's set sail, then," he said with strained nonchalance, hesitating for a moment what to do with the dress, but then just taking it with him, and walking past James as quickly as possible.

"I heard the journey to the World's End is a long endeavor."

Jack stopped in his tracks, twitched his nose, and sighed. "I have no intention of cruising over there," he snapped, turning around.

"Can Jones send somebody who is not dead to the Locker?" asked James in a low voice, slightly narrowing his eyes, as he almost involuntarily glanced at the dress.

Without thinking, Jack clutched the fabric tighter. "For Jones to send one to the Locker, said one has to talk to Jones first, which is a bit problematic at the moment, so I'm afraid any further arrangements have to wait for this condition to be fulfilled," he answered with forced annoyance. All those discussion were only making the situation feel unbearably real, and a part of him was still hanging to the illusion that Elizabeth would just walk up the stairs any moment, a bottle of rum in her hand, and a smug smile on her face. Maybe it was all just a joke, maybe she was still here, closer than he thought, busy burning his rum...

James sighed inaudibly telling himself for the third time not to get irritated. For some reason Elizabeth's father had asked him not to treat Sparrow as an enemy, although he would never guess what was making the Governor so understanding. Something Elizabeth had said? For certainly not that silly note that he had given him to read. _Captain Groom_, he grimaced inwardly.

"He may come for parley," said James after a pause.

Jack blinked, an almost imperceptible smile flickering across his face. "Who said there will be parley?"

James snorted. "I do read the documents under which I serve, Captain. And sometimes I even draw conclusions."

Jack's eyes widened slightly. "Ye read bloody fast, mate" he said with sincere astonishment that made James smile briefly.

"So I've been told. Still, if he won't come-"

"He will come," cut in Jack decidedly. "A nice, living," Jack paused, and wrinkled his forehead, "more or less," he said with scepticism, "threat to drag along."

"He is not very fond of Cutler Beckett," said James, his eyes studying Jack's face, trying to decide whether it was really so easy to read the man's thoughts from his face, or was it all a bluff, a misleading mask? _Most likely both._

"Can't blame him for that," said Jack with a grimace.

"He's not with them, because he wants to, but because he has to-" started James, but Jack interrupted him in a suddenly serious voice.

"And of course we won't mention whose fault is it; who provided them with the means to control Jones."

James looked at Jack for a moment, trying to decide how authentic his seriousness was. "It was an act of mistaken judgement and I regret taking this error too far. But it can't be undone."

"Ah, and here ye're wrong, mate"countered Jack, letting his tone change once again. James rolled his eyes exasperatedly, wondering if it made any sense, asking the man to stop addressing him in such a way. "Redoing is all that it's there to be done to undo whatever has been done that can't be undone unless it's possible to undo something without redoing it, which doesn't seem to be the case," said Jack, squinting.

James looked at him for a moment in silence with an unreadable expression on his face, about to remark that, once she would be found, he _was_ going to ask Elizabeth if her marriage to him was really not forced, for the probability of somebody voluntarily acquiescing to the lifetime of similar ramblings was as high as the possibility of a ship sailing across the desert. But then he thought better of it, and decided to just proceed with the conversation.

"Hopefully Mr. Turner was not as inconsiderate as to take the ship to Beckett," said James, starting to walk toward the stairs.

"I wouldn't count on that," commented Jack with a brief, sour smile. "Considering the _Pearl_'s luck to fall from the hands of one traitor to the other," he added grimly under his breath, turning around, and stepping on the staircase.

"It's not the matter of luck," said James, and Jack glanced at him over his shoulder. "It's the matter of choosing alliances," he walked passed Jack down the stairs. "And of trusting not those who surround us, but those who wouldn't let us be surrounded," he added, held Jack's gaze for a moment, and turned away, continuing descending the steps.

* * *

Beckett peered through the bars curiously, eyeing the strange woman with mixture of amazement and disgust.

"Who is that?" he asked haughtily, strengthening up, annoyed by a darkly amused smile that appeared on Tia Dalma's face.

Will looked at her, at first too preoccupied by his own thoughts to notice that there was something different about her. He wrinkled his forehead, and tried to figure out what it was.

"I don't know, Sir," said Mercer, glancing at Tia Dalma condescendingly. "Does not answer questions."

Beckett cast his eyes heavenward for a moment. "It's not you I'm asking," he said with a hint of annoyance in his tone, turning to Will, and looking at him expectantly.

Tia Dalma shifted her eyes from Beckett to Will and raised his eyebrows, and Will found her smile as unsettling as always, and yet there was something changed... something new about her...

"Mr. Turner," Beckett's voice was flat, loud, and impatient.

Will looked at him. If only he could turn back time, not come here at all... What was he thinking? What he had wanted to do? He could not even recreate his own reasoning anymore.

"How can I know?" he said with a shrug, darting his eyes to Tia Dalma, whose smile broadened, and she looked even more amused than before. He wondered how had she got locked up in the brig? By whom? And why did she look as if she knew what he had done, or at least-

And then it suddenly dawned on him what was so different about her. Her eyes were brighter, and she seemed younger – both physically and mentally. There was light in her eyes, and her smile, although still rather cryptic, seemed fresh and amused rather than darkly ironic, and he found himself wondering what could possibly cause that change... Unless he was only imagining it. He did not trust his own judgement anymore.

Beckett snorted, and turned away from Will. "Does she have a name?" he asked, addressing Tia Dalma in a blank voice.

Tia Dalma tilted her head to the side, and slowly walked to the bars. "Scars heal, but never vanish," she said in a low voice, with glittering eyes. Beckett wrinkled his forehead in confused annoyance. "Fire set will burn those who set it, and the last hour will come disguised as victory," she whispered leaning against the bars, and reaching with her hand through it.

Beckett took an abrupt step backwards, irritated. "We'll deal with this later," he said glancing at Mercer, and heading up the stairs.

Will held Tia Dalma's gaze for a moment, and then turned around to follow.

"Don't atone too early," Tia Dalma's voice caught Will in the middle of the stairs. Mercer shifted his eyes between them. Will stared at her for a moment, and then walked away with a frown. Tia Dalma smiled to herself, and swirled around, resting her back against the bars.

* * *

Elizabeth stared at the silver pistol in the man's hand horrified.

"I won't do this," she whispered, shaking her head, and looking up to meet his colorless eyes boring into hers expressionlessly.

She remembered this pistol, remembered how he had aimed it at Will's father-

For a moment her thoughts drifted to that day, to the terms being established, to the deal being made... Strangely, she could not remember herself saying 'yes'... She only remembered that everything suddenly brightened, and then blackened, and then... she was back in the present.

But she must have agreed if she was here right now... Right before she had come back... She must have-

"You are breaking the rules of our agreement," his blank voice shook her out of her reverie, his hand with the pistol extended toward her.

Elizabeth shook her head again. "You can't make me do this," she said with more certainty than she felt.

He smiled wryly. "You we'll be doing this for the next twenty years," he said, his eyes regarding her face coolly.

It vexed her most, the way he looked at her, as if he already knew all the possible answers she could give him, and was merely waiting to see which one she would choose.

"No," she said, her voice drowning in the incessant whispers of the woman and quiet whimpering of the child. Elizabeth glanced over her shoulder, tears gathering in her eyes at the despair flashing in the mother's eyes.

"You are breaking-" he started again, but Elizabeth cut him off.

"Why are you doing this?" she asked angrily, taking a step toward him, a look of mild surprise that flitted across his face causing her courage to increase. "To prove something to me? He doesn't have to die, you don't have to take his life away. Why are you doing this?" she repeated her question, her hands curling up into fists.

He tilted his head to the side, looking at her as if she was some strange phenomenon. "Do you really think it is me who decides about it?"

Elizabeth bit her lip, and crossed her arms over her chest. "And who else?" she snapped, and to her dismay he smiled again, and for a moment he looked as an ordinary person that she could meet in the most ordinary of circumstances, and this realization frightened her for some reason.

"You ascribe to me the powers I don't possess," he stepped toward her, and she stepped back, only after she did realizing that it only erased her former, temporary advantage. "The hour of his death is in his fate. I only bring his last hour to him," he reached out, trying, once again, to hand her the pistol. "And now you will do the same."

Elizabeth glanced at the pistol, and then back at him. "But I don't want to do this. And I won't. That was not the part of our agreement," she said smoothly, thrusting up her chin, wondering what he would say to her improvised half-bluff.

He squinted slightly. "Death belongs to the Maelstrom of Time, and Maelstrom of Time _is_ our agreement," he said in a calm voice, cocking the pistol, and offering it to her.

Elizabeth glanced at the little boy who caught his mother's hand, and began tossing his head from side to side. "I won't let you do this," she whispered determinedly.

He looked at her for a moment in silence, and once again it crossed her mind that she had prevailed in a word battle with him, but then all of a sudden he grabbed her by the shoulders, and pulled her toward him, the pistol he still held in his hand digging into the skin of her arm.

"I am patient, but my patience ends as abruptly as it comes into being, so I wouldn't try pushing the borderline too far, for you may unexpectedly find yourself on the wrong side of the bargain," he said in a low voice, looking into her eyes with unpleasant intensity. Elizabeth gritted her teeth, but said nothing. "As I said, we may cancel our agreement any time you wish. You don't want to do it," he glanced at the child tossing feverishly under his mother's terrified gaze. "You don't have to. Then I will take back the lives unfairly rescued."

"So our bargain is unfair?" Elizabeth retorted quickly with a forced half-sneer.

"Hardly a bargain," he returned her smile with equal insincerity. "A favor, rather."

Elizabeth widened her eyes at him. "A favor?" she asked with an incredulous, disgusted smile. "You call _this_ a favor?" she glared at him, and shifted to free herself, but his grip on her shoulders did not loosen, and yet he looked as if he was not holding her at all, and the effortlessness of his strength scared her.

"Do you think you are the only one who would make a sacrifice for those you care about?" he asked in a low voice, absently brushing his thumb over her collarbone. Elizabeth glanced at his hand with annoyance. "It would have been a very far-fetched, very _vain_ assumption to be made," he paused, his eyes flickering to her lips for a split second, "for a murderer," he finished in a whisper.

Elizabeth's jaw clenched, and she quickly raised her hand, and snatched the silver pistol out of his hand, aiming it at him. He let go of her shoulders and smiled faintly.

"Do you think you can _kill me_?" he asked, glancing at the child, and it suddenly crossed Elizabeth's mind that perhaps he was telling the truth, that perhaps everybody's last hour was already marked, and there was really nothing he, or she, for that matter, could do about it. And yet she had changed Jack's and Bill Turner's destinies, so perhaps...

"Let me check," she said, fingering the trigger, and taking a step backwards, her eyes fixed on him.

"By all means," he said, calmly studying her face with his colorless eyes, which once again travelled to the child for a moment.

Subconsciously, Elizabeth followed his gaze, a mistake she realized when it was too late, for he was next to her in no time, one hand slipping around her waist, pressing her back to his chest, and turning her around, the other grasping her wrists, and before she had the time to react, his hand pressed her finger to the trigger, and a silver bullet flew across the room, and then suddenly stopped and burst above the little boy who opened his eyes, and stared up, as if he could really see the silver dust that began falling over him from the bullet.

The man let go of Elizabeth's hand, and the pistol fell to the floor with an inaudible thud.

"What is it, sweetheart?" the boy's mother stroked his fevered forehead, alarmed by the strange look in his wide-open eyes.

Elizabeth screamed, and leaped forward, but the man's cold hands held her against him in an invincible embrace.

The dust kept falling, and the child's eyelids began to slowly fall over his eyes, and it was then that the woman's eyes widened, and she jumped from the bed, and leaned over her son, cupping his face in her hands. "No," she mouthed more than said, glancing at the doctor who stood motionlessly by the bed, a grimace of compassion fixed on his face. "No," the woman shook her head, stroking the child's red cheeks. "Open your eyes, Timothy, open your eyes. Mummy is here, open your eyes," she whispered nervously in a quivering voice, her hands shaking.

Elizabeth kept struggling, trying to break free, tears flowing down her cheeks, and she was choking on the words she tried to utter, unable to say anything between her broken sobs and screams.

"Timothy, Timothy, Timothy!" the woman patted the child's cheek, delicately at first, and then almost strongly, but the boy did not even stir, his head lolling to the side, and softly hitting the pillow, his hands which had been clutching the cover, slowly let go of the white fabric.

A few last grain of silver dust sprinkled invisibly over his face, and the room grew quiet, except for Elizabeth's muffled screams that could be heard neither by the doctor, nor by the child's mother.

The woman stared at her son's face, frozen to the spot, her eyes red from crying and wide open, her hands on the child's face. "No," she whispered, shaking her head.

"I'm sorry," whispered the doctor, leaning over the bed, and taking the child's wrist in his hand. "I'm very sorry," he slowly put the child's hand back on the cover. "There was nothing we could-"

"No!" the woman shouted, rising abruptly. "He just fell asleep," she said gesturing to the child, and then sitting back down on the edge of the bed. "Mummy will be here when you wake up," she said with feverish agitation to the boy, running her hand through his hair, and smiling down at him, wiping the tears that flowed from her eyes incessantly with the back of her other hand.

The doctor looked at her sadly.

Elizabeth stopped tossing in the man's embrace, and just cried, her vision blurred by tears, her mind suddenly empty, and she felt as if everything was crushing down at her, and if it was not for his arms around her she would have slid to the floor from exhaustion. She suddenly felt as if she had no strength at all, not even enough strength to breathe. She closed her eyes, and sobbed, and then cringed at the loud noise that pierced her heart. When she opened her eyes, she saw the doctor trying to drag the woman away from the bed, and calm her down with his words which she did not seem to hear.

Elizabeth winced, clenching her fists, and then suddenly a strong gust of wind enveloped her, and the room around her vanished leaving her in the blinding brightness, which quickly turned into absolute darkness.

"You will get used to it," were the last words that flew to her from within the darkness, before she drifted off, exhausted, into feverish sleep.

* * *

"Parley?!" Pintel and Ragetti exchanged meaningful looks, and Barbossa darted his eyes to Jack suspiciously.

"I won't be firing at me _Pearl_," said Jack with a sour smile, hastily walking away from the starboard, his eyes fixed on the silhouette of his ships among the terrifyingly uncountable number of East India Trading Company vessels.

He crossed the deck, heading for the longboat, followed by James, and very annoyed Barbossa. "Prepare to sail," he throw an order at nobody in particular, and stormed off, walking toward Governor Swann whom he had noticed out of the corner of his eye, standing by the rail since they had set sail leaving Shipwreck Cove behind.

It was not the conversation he was looking forward to, but it seemed wrong not to say anything before... He did not even know what was going to happen, but it was only one more reason to speak with Elizabeth's father.

"Governor," he started in a strangely hesitant tone of voice, for the first time feeling wary about the necessity to speak.

The Governor turned around with an expression of sincere surprise on his face. There was grim sadness in his eyes, and Jack thought that those several hours of worry added him at least several years of age. _Ye've lost her, ye've let her go, disappear, ye've let her to be taken away – ye've failed her. _He blinked quickly to get rid of all those thoughts which kept repeating themselves, swirling in his head like some insufferable song that once heard would never leave him alone.

He blinked again when the Governor extended his hand, giving him a piece of rumpled paper that he must have been holding in his hand for a long time. Jack took the paper from him wordlessly, and unfolded it, his eyes immediately catching the words at the bottom: "_Captain Groom and Beautiful Bride"_.His note to Gibbs. He lifted his eyes to the Governor.

"I forgot to give it back to Mr. Gibbs," said Governor Swann in a low voice.

Jack glanced at the paper once again, Elizabeth's laughter reverberating in his head. It was only a day before, only a day before - they had been running through the town, across the beach, the scent of the sea interlaced with the scent of her hair that the wind had been blowing in his face.

"I should've asked," he forced himself to speak in order not to drown in his thoughts once again, his eyes drifting to the note. "_We (by which you should understand me and a very bonnie bonnie lass in me arms (that is I shall take her in me arms as soon as I finish writing this note)..."_

"And if I said no?" the unexpected lack of expected venom in the Governor's voice caused Jack to look up at him abruptly, trying to guess the implication of his question.

He knew he should say something serious, something... responsible, and mature; apologize, perhaps? Promise once again to bring her back... But somehow when he opened his mouth to speak, he could not say anything else than those words which was bound to irritate the Governor, but seemed to say themselves nonetheless:

"I would've married her against the entire world. I love her." He gritted his teeth, overwhelmed by the worthlessness that those words must have held for the Governor not only because it was him – a pirate, but most of all because it was him – the man who had lost his daughter, who had not protected her well enough – that had said them. He expected the Governor to at least frown, but to his surprise Governor Swann smiled sadly, and gave him the most astonishing answer:

"I think I'd known that even before my daughter started believing in it." Jack stared at him, not quite knowing if he had heard him correctly. "She told me everything," the Governor added noticing Jack's startled look.

"Oh," Jack mumbled, annoyed with himself for the lack of a better answer.

"About the..." the Governor hesitated, still not really able to not feel ridiculous saying all those things, "the Kraken," he said at last, and Jack's eyes widened for a split second. "And... she also asked me..." he grimaced, and whispered more to himself than to Jack. "She knew... she really knew... She knew she would be gone," he looked back at Jack, who nodded weakly with a frown. "She asked me," the Governor took a deep breath, and continued, "that in case something happened to her, I would tell you that..." he trailed off, despite his efforts to handle the conversation calmly unable to really say it. "But I guess now there is no need for me to say what her actions have already said," he concluded with a brief, faint smile, looking at Jack intently, trying to see the man Elizabeth apparently saw, trying to overcome his own perspective.

"Thank you," whispered Jack after a pause, and it was the Governor's turn to look surprised. "I will bring her back," he added, and turned around heading back to James and Barbossa who were already waiting for him in the longboat.


	41. Chapter 41

A/N: _**Thank you so much for all the awesome reviews! **_**:)**

Disclaimer: I don't own Jack, Elizabeth, etc.

**Chapter 41**

"_Morning, luv."_

_Elizabeth slowly opened her eyes, sunlight enveloping her like his voice, and his smile which she returned radiantly._

"_Jack..." she lifted her head, and kissed him quickly on the lips. "You didn't wake me up, did you?" she asked, slightly narrowing her eyes in playful annoyance._

_Jack widened his eyes at her. "Me? Wake ye up? And how was I to do that, luv? Unless ye believe I possess some special skills that allow me influence yer thoughts," he wiggled his eyebrows, running his hand up her arm, and brushing a few strands of hair behind her shoulder._

_She giggled, and snuggled closer to him. "Well, if you were wishing for me to wake up and thinking about it hard enough, perhaps I could feel that in my dream, and-"_

_He silenced her with a kiss, pulling her closer. "I don't have to search my dreams for ye," he whispered against her lips, giving her his lop-sided grin. "I have ye right here, don't I?"_

Elizabeth woke up with a gasp, and sat up in bed. For a moment she sat motionlessly, listening. She thought she had heard a sound, and that it was a sound that had woken her up, but everything was perfectly quiet, and apart from her quickened heartbeat she could not hear anything.

Slowly, she lowered her head back onto the pillow, and stared at the wall. The room was dark, and she did not even bother looking around to know where she was. Even though she could not remember what happened after- She closed her eyes, and buried her face into the pillow. After that little boy... after the little boy's life was... taken away.

She knew where she was, as if she could instinctively feel it. It was the room in which she had woken up on her first... morning? night? Were those terms applicable anymore?... here.

And now it was the second time she had woken up here. Perhaps she should count those moments. How else would she know when the twenty years passed? Would _he _tell her? There was something unsettling in his demeanor, something that was telling her that he might not be honest with her... There was no way to tell whether he was telling the truth or not. His facial expression was rarely giving away anything, and his eyes... She could see nothing in his eyes, only the abyss of silence, as if he neither felt, nor thought anything, and yet he must have been thinking something... at least that.

She opened her eyes, trying to recall her dream, waking up in Jack's... in her husband's arms... It was like it would have been if she was not here, but there with him on the _Pearl_. She would have been waking up in his arms every morning on the _Black Pearl_... or waking up alone, and hearing his voice coming from the deck, shouting orders... or-

She gritted her teeth, not knowing if it was better to think about it, to dream about it or not... It hurt to think of what could have been, but on the other hand it was the only thing that kept her sane – the memory of him.

Staring into the distance she wondered if he was thinking of her too...

* * *

"What a fine collection of traitors," muttered Jack, stepping from the longboat on the stretch of sandy land. "Ye're really on the wrong side, mate," he added, glancing at Barbossa who rolled his eyes.

"I wonder how much he told them," said James in a low voice, squinting into the distance, three silhouettes of the people already waiting for them, standing out against the blue peacefulness of the sea around them.

Barbossa snorted. "The question is what he has not told them. Yet," he added, shooting Jack an annoyed look. "If he told them about Calypso..." he huffed angrily.

"Even Mr. Turner can't be that-" started James, but Jack cut him off.

"I assure ye he can, mate," he said with a humorless smile.

Barbossa sighed with exasperation, walking heavily across the soft sand.

"Do allow everybody some level of unpredictability, Captain Sparrow," said James, looking straight ahead, and continued before Jack managed to retort, "And I would thank you for not using any lax forms while addressing me," he decided to add at last, even though he did not think it was going to have any effect on Jack Sparrow's speaking habits.

Jack glanced at him, but then focused on the group before them which was becoming more and more visible. Beckett stood between Will and Davy Jones, hands clasped behind his back, and an ill-boding smile playing about his lips.

James slowly shifted his eyes between the three man, stopping at Davy Jones, and regarding him thoughtfully for a while. There was no way to predict what he was thinking, or planning for that matter, apart from the desire to reclaim his heart, obviously, which – and he must have known that – was not possible as long as it was in Beckett's possession.

"He didn't know 'bout the Pieces of Eight, did he?" Barbossa asked nobody in particular, squinting into the sun. It still felt odd to feel _everything _with such intensity; the heat, the coldness, the scent of the sea...

"No way to tell when people learn things they shouldn't," observed Jack, twitching his nose with disgust, trying not to look at Davy Jones, or more specifically his tentacles, which for some reason, always made him think about his decidedly too close encounter with the Kraken.

"_You came back."_

She had come back too... He remembered her telling him that during one of those fights they had had after her awakening... And now they were going over the same scheme once again. _I'm coming for ye, luv._

With a faint, inward smile he made a mental note to tell her this time not to do anything that would enable her to return the favor.

"Two dead men and one turncoat," Beckett greeted them with a half-smile when Barbossa, James, and Jack stopped in front of him and his companions. "This would have been amusing if it was not distasteful."

"Not as distasteful as three to-be-dead turncoats," retorted Jack narrowing his eyes in an artificial smile.

James smiled briefly. "Let's proceed straight to the point," he said pointedly, and Jack began to wonder if voting him the King was the wisest decision after all, as he was apparently enjoying it a bit too much.

Trying to focus on James Norrington, or even Barbossa for that matter, Will's eyes traveled to Jack nonetheless, and he felt a twinge of bitter anger piercing his heart when their eyes met for a moment.

How could Elizabeth do that? How, after so many months of their engagement, so many _years _of their friendship she could leave him like that, marrying another man, _this _man without as much as informing him about it? He tried recall their last conversation. Was it his comment about the red dress? Was it really the last time they had talked? No, there was that one moment yet when she had asked him to let her talk to _him_, because... what had she said then?... because she needed _his_ forgiveness... something like that, he could not remember her exact words anymore... He had spent half of his life trying to win her heart without really believing that it was possible, and then when it had happened, when they were about to get married, everything had fallen apart – because of _him_. If it was not for Jack Sparrow their paths would never cross with Beckett's, and-

If it was not for Jack Sparrow he would have never told Elizabeth how he had felt about her either, he thought grimly, dropping his gaze to the sand that sparkled in the sunlight as if the world was a perfectly beautiful place.

"How was your wedding, Jack?" Beckett ignored James' remark, shifting his eyes to Jack.

Jack glanced at Will, and then looked back at Beckett. "Marvelous," he said, smiling briefly.

Out of the corner of his eye, James noticed astonishment mixed with irritation flashing in Davy Jones' eyes.

Beckett snorted under his breath. "So you do owe me thanks after all," he said smilingly.

Will frowned, slowly lifting his gaze, and for the first time noticing that there was something odd (so many oddities he was noticing around him as of late...) about Jack... Perhaps he was worried... worried about Elizabeth's- about his- about Elizabeth's safety...

The thought made him feel cold inside... What if she really was in danger? Once the battle would start, no matter the arrangement he had made – or _thought _he had made – with Beckett, there was no way to really ensure her safety. He did not know how he might have missed that obvious fact before.

"I don't think gratitude is a relevant element of war negotiations," said James rather stiffly, irritated by Beckett even vaguely alluding to Elizabeth. Her marriage to a notorious pirate followed by her disappearance were frustrating enough, he did not need to hear about her being referred to as some kind of leverage.

Beckett smiled. "I'm curious. Have you been planning your betrayal all along, or was it merely a spontaneous leap into the vileness?" he asked looking at James intently.

"Betraying one's own betrayal is hardly a betrayal at all," observed Barbossa, narrowing his eyes in a sour smile.

"Is discussing my choices the main purpose of this meeting?" asked James, shifting his eyes between Barbossa and Beckett.

"Technically, it's one of its causes," remarked Jack, without looking at James, who glanced at him with exasperation.

"_You_ have a debt to pay, Jack Sparrow," growled all of a sudden Davy Jones, almost taking a step forward, but in the last moment remembering about his leg immobilized in the bucket of water, and therefore limiting himself to an angry huff.

Jack widened his eyes at him. "My debt was already paid. Ye have to catch up with the world's latest events, mate."

Davy Jones glared at him, and opened his mouth to speak, but James cut him off. "I propose an exchange," he said, clasping his hands behind his back, and slightly narrowing his eyes looking past the three men in front of him.

Everybody's eyes darted to him, each gaze filled with variated amount of perplexity.

"An exchange?" Beckett raised his eyebrows.

"Yes," James smiled, shifting his gaze from the horizon to Beckett. "An exchange."

* * *

Governor Swann stood by the rail of the _Silver Frenzy _staring across the sea with a frown on his face. It was not how he had imagined to live his life; or his daughter's life, for that matter. He had imagined her living a comfortable life far away from disturbing events and dangerous circumstances. And yet here they both were – in the middle of it all, in the middle of unpredictable chaos. Or even worse than that... Because she was not here right now, and he still did not quite understand where she was. Maelstrom of Time. He had an impression that either nobody cared – or dared – to explain that to him well-enough, or perhaps he just could not understand something so bizarre, so incomprehensible...

He rested his hands on the rail, and looked down at the calm waves of the blue ocean, so quiescent, so indifferent to pain floating above it. Where was Elizabeth? Was she alright? What if she was hurt? Injured? What if she was suffering? He could not stand his inability to do something about it, the unbearable necessity to depend on others – and on others only – to rescue her.

Even if those _others_ were her husband...

Her husband.

He was about to frown, but then all of a sudden he realized that he did not really want to frown... He had no reason... He wanted her to be happy and she was happy... apparently; he wanted her to marry from love, and she did... apparently; he wanted her to marry a good man... and she did...

apparently.

At least it was the remote impression he was beginning to have...

* * *

"We have to go."

Elizabeth sat up in bed abruptly, and stared at the man, wondering how he had walked in so quietly that she had not heard him opening or closing the door, even though she had not been sleeping for some time now.

And then she shuddered inwardly at the thought that he had probably walked in without opening the door at all...

"Where?" she slid off the bed, smoothing her hair in a nervous gesture, feeling more not less uncomfortable in his presence every time he appeared in front of her.

"People die every day," he said blankly. "Every hour."

Elizabeth's facial expression hardened, and she quickly walked up to him. "You made me do it. I didn't do it, and I won't be doing it," she said through her clenched teeth.

"Are we going to have the same conversation all over again?" he asked with a small smile, his eyes wandering around her face as if he was looking at her for the very first time. He was always looking at her in such a way, and it annoyed her as much as everything else that had something to do with him. The realization, however, was somewhat soothing: if she still could get irritated so easily, there was still hope that she was strong enough to survive all of this, and... or maybe even-

"How will I know when those twenty years pass?" asked Elizabeth, moving to a different topic all of a sudden, and letting her gaze swept over his face in the same manner in which he was looking at her, wondering if he would feel equally intimidated.

A light frown flitted across his face, and he kept silent for a while before answering: "I will inform you," he said flatly, as if the question was irrelevant.

Elizabeth snorted ironically. "And if I would wish to have a more dependable source of information?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I'm afraid I'm the only source of information here," he said looking at her intently.

"A truly discomfiting notion," observed Elizabeth dryly, despite the tears that gathered in the corners of her eyes at the memory of that sunlit day on the deck of the _Pearl_ when they- when she and her husband argued over the letters of marque.

She narrowed her eyes at the man when he smiled at her in that irritatingly ordinary way he sometimes did.

"We may come back to this discussion if it amuses you," he said, half-turning toward the door. "But now we have to go. I'm beginning to lose my patience explaining this to you all the time," he added in a suddenly different tone of voice, his smile disappearing, and Elizabeth felt at loss as to how to deal with him once again. She could not figure out the direction of his thoughts, she could not predict what he would say in the next moment, the only thing she could be certain of being the necessity of constant wariness in his presence. "I can promise this time it will be easier," he said offering her his hand, which she refused as she had done before.

"I don't need your promises," she said haughtily, walking past him, but he stopped her, grabbing her by the arm, and yanking her backwards.

"Leave me al-" she shouted, glaring at him.

"There is a coat in this armoire," he cut her off, indicating the piece of furniture with the nod of his head. "Put it on. It will be cold where we're going," he let go of her arm, holding her gaze.

She looked at him, and then suddenly something dawned at her... something that had not occurred to her before. They were traveling in space... that was clear, that strange journey that had seemed to tear her apart when they had gone to that little boy's house... it was a journey across space, but... was it also a journey across time?

* * *

"What?" Jack looked at James wide-eyed in what seemed to be sincere astonishment, which left James once again at loss for how to interpret Jack's facial expressions.

"Done," said Beckett, his eyes fixed on Jack, a small smile hovering over his lips.

"Done," spat Davy Jones.

Will glanced at his companions, million thoughts running through his head. Could he do this? Could he do this to Elizabeth? They would tell her he contributed to this. He should not have come to Beckett, and suddenly it was painfully clear that he stood on the wrong side of this meeting. He should have talked to Elizabeth, let her explain... If she would want to explain anything. But running away and trying to take random revenge on them all, them _both _was not going to help him, and was most definitely not going to change anything. She had married Jack, she was his wife now, and there was nothing he could do to undo it.

The only thing he could do was now object to James' proposal to trade the _Black Pearl_ for Jack.

He was about to say that he disagreed with his supposed allies, but then suddenly Tia Dalma's words sprung to his mind:

"_Don't atone too early."_

While he was pondering her words, Barbossa's voice resounded in the air: "Done."

Jack shot him a hurt look. "And here I thought ye might want to do something original."

"That would be a waste of originality, Jack," he said with a sneer.

"Done," Will's blank voice drew Jack's attention to him.

"Ye're all dreadfully predictable," said Jack, shifting his gaze back to James. "And don't get me wrong, ma-," he twitched his nose, and James raised his eyebrows surprised that he actually remembered his request. "I'm not sure it was a well-thought out proposal."

James' lips stretched into an artificial smile. "King," he said, squinting.

Jack looked at him for a moment, and then after some consideration took his hat off his head, and stepped out of the line with a small bow. "Who am I to argue with royalty, eh?" he turned around, coming face to face with Barbossa's sword.

"Glad ye look at it that way," he said smilingly, cutting off one of Jack's trinkets, and closing it in his hand.

Jack grimaced, taking a few steps away from Barbossa, and accidentally almost bumping into Davy Jones. He hastily stepped away from the cold touch of his tentacles, shooting him (and them) an unhappy look.

"Do you fear death, Jack Sparrow?" whispered Davy Jones into Jack's ear.

Jack tilted not only his head, but his entire body to the side, and grimaced. "Ye have no idea," he said pensively, glancing at James who looked at him seriously for a moment, before averting his eyes and shifting his gaze to the sea, a small frown flitting across his face.

* * *

It was easier. The journey, at least. If it was the journey that he had meant. Perhaps he had meant what was to come next...

Elizabeth wrapped her arms around herself tightly, hiding her chin behind the furry collar of the black coat. The wind was tugging on the thick fabric making it flutter in the air like silk. She narrowed her eyes, trying to see through the snowflakes swirling frantically in the air, falling into her eyes, and blurring her vision. She could hardly walk, but she refused to take his hand every time he offered it to her. She knew he certainly thought that one day, in particularly difficult circumstances perhaps, she would accept his help – but he was wrong.

Clearly, he did not know her at all if he thought that she would let him hold her hand only because she was a little bit scared, or a little bit cold. Even if it would be only for her stubbornness, she would not give him the satisfaction of making her change her decision, no matter how silly this decision might be.

She gritted her teeth, and wriggled her toes inside her boots to keep them from freezing. There was only one man she would listen to, or could do something only because he would tell her to do that. She chewed on her lower lip, for a moment forgetting the coldness around her and the sharp wind blowing her hair into her eyes, beautiful memories replaying themselves in her mind – a song hovering above the bonfire, a compass spinning around in her hand, two people lying on the beach, staring up at the stars, a cabin on the ship and his lips on hers...

Of course she would never tell him that she would listen to him, she thought with a small, inward smirk, that sent warm shivers across her body, the memory of him brightening her thoughts immediately.

But then she noticed that the man beside her stopped walking, and she stopped as well, and she wanted to ask why they had stopped, because there was nothing in sight apart from the empty road along which they were walking, and fields of dead grass covered with snow as far as her eyes could reach.; but when she opened her mouth to speak, there was suddenly a noise coming from somewhere behind her, and she swirled around just in time to see a carriage rushing across the road at a frantic speed. It ran passed her, and then before she had the time to blink she heard the horses screech, and the carriage fell out of the road and onto its side with a terrible noise.

* * *

"Captain Barbossa," James irritatingly bright and firm voice caught Barbossa in the middle of his rather cheerful stroll to the longboat. "I'm afraid I don't understand."

Barbossa suppressed a grimace of annoyance, and turned around, grinning. "That's very simple. Ye'll drop me on my ship, an' then ye'll go back to the _Silver Frenzy_. I'll let ye know if Calypso is still aboard, an' if she is, we'll have to arrange unbinding her prior to the battle."

James listened to Barbossa with a faint smile, his eyes wandering around the sea, scanning the horizon, the silhouettes of the _Silver Frenzy, _the _Endeavor_, and the _Black Pearl_ shimmering in the sunlight, a longboat with Jack, Beckett, Will, and Davy Jones moving slowly toward the _Endeavor_.

"I do appreciate your effort to free me from the necessity to give orders, Captain, but I assure you it isn't something I am unaccustomed to," James stepped into the longboat, taking the oars from the bottom of it. Barbossa narrowed his eyes at him expectantly. "Let me correct the details of your proposal," sais James, looking at Barbossa intently. "We'll row to the _Silver Frenzy _where I'll leave you, and then I'll row to the _Black Pearl_, check what is there, and inform you about my findings."

Barbossa crossed his arms over his chest, eyeing James angrily. "Am I correct in my humble assumption that ye're going to take command of my ship?" he asked with an incredulous half-smile, his eyes flashing with irritation.

"Yes, I'm going to take command of the _Black Pearl_, if that's your question," James looked at Barbossa returning his gaze unblinkingly.

Barbossa took a hasty step toward the longboat. "The _Black Pearl_ is my ship, and I'll be the one in her command," he said in a low, menacing voice, placing one of his hands on his pistol.

"Surely you do not intend to threaten me, the Pirate King, Captain," James looked into his eyes intensely, slowly moving his hand to his own weapon.

"Pirate King," he snorted sardonically under his breath. "Pirate King or not, nobody else but me will be in charge of _my_ ship."

"Only that it isn't _your_ ship, is it?" James raised his eyebrows with pretended curiosity.

"Really?" Barbossa sneered. "An' whose ship is it?" he asked challengingly, following James' gaze which drifted to the horizon.

James stared out at the ocean for a while, and Barbossa began to grow impatient, when all of a sudden a sharp sound cut through the air, and despite Barbossa drawing out his pistol very quickly, his pistol was knocked out of his hand at an instant, and soon he found himself with James' sword pressed to his neck.

"They'll be my orders we'll be following, and I'd ask you not to question them. The _Black Pearl_ will be in my command and you'll stay on the _Silver Frenzy_, unless you wish to stay here," said James gesturing to the thin strip of land on which the meeting had taken place. "The choice is yours."

Barbossa glared at him, gritting his teeth in angry exasperation. He had not taken _this _obstacle into consideration when he had expressed his consent for exchanging the _Black Pearl_ for Jack. He had not thought James Norrington would care about him taking over the _Pearl_.

"I won't leave it at that," he said through his gritted teeth, squinting.

James slowly took his sword off Barbossa's neck. "I imagine that much," he said, offering Barbossa one of the oars, which he took after picking up his pistol from the sand.

"Gaining a new enemy is not a wise thing to do," said Barbossa, steadily returning James' intense gaze.

James smiled briefly, sheathing his sword. "But losing an enemy," he sat down in the longboat, and lowered the oar into the water, "is," he said, glancing thoughtfully at the diminishing silhouette of the _Endeavor_.


	42. Chapter 42

A/N: _**Thank you so much for all the great reviews! **_**:)**

I have some bad news: my internet connection at home broke, and I have no idea when it will be fixed, so basically I'm cut off from the internet for I don't know how long:( I'm so very sad that it happened. I will reply to the reviews and post a new chapter as soon as the connection will be repaired (unless I will find the way to update - like right now - from outside of home) -waves & walks away crying-

Disclaimer: Jack, Elizabeth, etc. belong to Disney.

**Chapter 42**

"It's time to go," he stared down at her, a hint of cold annoyance apparent in his voice.

Elizabeth sat on the edge of the road, her arms wrapped around her knees, the wind blowing her hair in all directions, her eyes fixed on the bleak, snow-covered horizon.

She felt empty, and broken, and it did not even matter that this time he had taken the life of one of the people in the carriage himself.

"_Do you want me to take the life you saved? Right now? Wherever he is. I have a right to do it, and I will do it if you will break the rules."_

"_How can you be so..." Elizabeth shifted her eyes between the silver pistol that the man was trying to give her and his stony face, eyes sparkling with colorless anger._

"_Heartless?" he offered with a fleeting, ironic smile._

_Elizabeth clenched her jaw. "Yes," she whispered. "Don't you have a heart?" she asked, and something in his face twitched that made her question sound less ridiculous than she thought it was._

"_It's dead," he said blankly, after a pause, taking a step backwards, and aiming his pistol at one of the men that lay on the side of the road, moaning weakly._

Elizabeth cringed, the sound of the pistol being fired reverberating in her ears, and turning into an incessant, nagging, hollow ringing.

"Elizabeth."

He spoke her name, and she wondered if he was trying to get a response from her (even if it would have been mere annoyance), or was he rather trying to be sympathetic.

Sympathetic? She did not know where she got such an idea from. If his heart was dead, he could not be sympathetic, could he?

_How could a heart be dead?..._

"And what if I would like to die?" she asked, staring out into the swirling lace of white snowflakes. "What if I asked you to kill _me_?"

When she had watched the man die she suddenly understood, that she could not stand twenty years made out of days filled with death and suffering, regardless if she was only to watch, or do it herself, which she had no doubt she would be forced to do sooner or later. If she refused, he would take Jack's life, and everything she had done would have gone to waste.

"I told you already. Everybody has its hour to die. I'm not the one choosing it," he said in a voice as clear as ice, and as cold as the wind that was engulfing her. She closed her eyes, and snorted, gritting her teeth to keep from crying.

"Death that cannot kill?" she opened her eyes, and darted her gaze to him, getting up with swiftness that, she noticed, he must have found a bit surprising. "Every man can kill. How is it that Death cannot?" she stepped toward him, irritated by his numbness, by his refusal to let _anything_ show on his face.

"Do you think I'm the only one?" he asked, looking away. Elizabeth knitted his eyebrows, pulling the coat tighter around her. "Do you think that there is only one Death?" he looked back at her, eyes drained of color, but filled with strange intensity. "I wouldn't be able to take all the lives that there are to take. There are many Deaths, Elizabeth, and if each of them would kill people as they willed, the world would soon turn into a hell of chaos."

"And now it is the paradise of order?" Elizabeth licked her lips, dry and cold from the wind, lips that should taste of snow and tears, but somehow, the only taste still lingering on them was the sweet fire of Jack's kisses. She dug her nails in the thick fabric of the coat, and screamed inwardly.

He regarded her for a moment in silence, gusts of wind swishing between them, snowflakes falling all over Elizabeth's hair, slowly melting into them like vanishing stars.

"If I was to kill somebody regardless of their destiny," he trailed off, and Elizabeth was not sure if he was hesitant to tell her, or perhaps was just trying to raise her curiosity. "It would have destroyed _me_. I could do this only once," he added hardly above a whisper, and for a moment averted his eyes from her.

"Destroy you?" echoed Elizabeth automatically, and he gave her a brief, pale smile.

"And not every man can kill, Elizabeth," he said after a pause, ignoring her question and coming back to her earlier words.

"Mrs. Sparrow," corrected Elizabeth in a quiet, stubborn voice, her eyes shifting to the dusky sky. For a moment she got lost in her thoughts, memories so mesmerizing and vivid that she had to dig her nails in the coat again to keep from screaming out loud, but even then she could not stop the tears that were welling up in her eyes. _"Just dig yer nails in me back as hard as ye wish, luv."_ "No?" she looked back at him, as if she just heard what he had said.

He smiled faintly, taking a step forward, and her eyes flickered to his feet, as she abstractly remembered a trick she had read in one of her adventure stories: that to predict if a person coming from the opposite direction was going to attack you, you had to watch their feet.

"Don't set the range of probability in exclusive accordance with your own experiences," he said tonelessly, looking at her unblinkingly, even though the wind was blowing the snowflakes straight into his eyes. Maybe it was just yet another thing he could not feel...

"In your opinion I'm a cold-blooded murderer, you said as much," snapped Elizabeth with a half-hearted sneer, swirling around, and heading down the road.

"I never said such thing."

She heard his voice somewhere behind her, laced with the wind and snow.

"But if you think that the fact that you killed somebody you loved makes you a proof that everybody else, in right circumstances, is capable of doing the same thing, you're wrong."

Elizabeth turned around abruptly, surprised to find him standing right next to her.

"Are you going to lecture me on morality? Who are you? What right do you have-" she stopped in mid-sentence when he grabbed her forearms and pulled her toward him.

"You don't know anything about me," he said sternly.

"And you don't know anything about me!" shouted Elizabeth, clenching her fists.

"The question is who knows less," he smiled, "less than enough."

Elizabeth looked at him for a moment, inhaling the cold scent of winter around her, the wind tugging on her hair, threading through them like Jack's ringed fingers-

She took a deep breath, and bit her lip. Slowly, he let her go.

"How did it all started?" she asked in a strained voice. He studied her face as if trying to understand what she meant, not wishing to risk a wrong interpretation; _afraid to show weakness_, she thought, squinting. "I traveled to the past to meet with somebody... and I didn't return on time. Was that the reason? The only reason?" She could not decide if his fleeting smile was a grimace of annoyance or admiration.

"It's time to go," she stated indifferently.

A weak, triumphant smile flitted across Elizabeth's lips. "Unanswered questions trigger yet more questions," she said, her eyes sparkling in the winter sun, only... that there was no sun visible, and he blinked to suppress the strange, thrilling feeling her gaze seemed to evoke.

"Time to go," he repeated more firmly, his hand extending so quickly that she did not even notice when he clutched her wrist, and tugged her toward him.

She managed to snatch her hand free, but he caught it again, and pulled her by the arms despite the daggers she was glaring at him and her attempts to break free; and then suddenly he noticed that it was not the sun that he imagined glittering in her eyes, but... tears.

He let go of her, and Elizabeth wrinkled her forehead in confusion at the... confusion that appeared on his face, and for the first time it occurred to her that there were some emotions swirling around behind the stony mask of his face and transparent indifference of his eyes.

He looked as if he tried to remember something, but the impression was brief, and it quickly gave way to a grimace of impatience, and he grabbed her hand once more, dragging her into the darkness.

* * *

Through the small window in the brig Jack watched the _Black Pearl_ and the _Silver Frenzy_ sail away from the _Endeavor_, black and silver sails fluttering in the wind, and yet he felt no regret, no longing, as if it was not his heart that was sailing away.

Because his heart was elsewhere.

He closed his eyes, and leaned his head against the damp wall behind him. The scent of this ship was unfamiliar and unmemorable, he felt almost as if he was on land, or perhaps the sea lost a grain of its magic when he lost nearly everything?...

"_Jack."_

Her voice haunted him whenever he closed his eyes; and whenever he kept them open. Her voice was inside him, in his mind, laced through his thoughts, pulsating in his veins, emanating from his skin... Was it her voice or her touch? He could not tell. It was simply _her_. Overwhelming, beautiful; everywhere.

Everywhere...

He drew a sharp breath, and gritted his teeth. _Bloody stupid damnable wench. _How could she not have told him? Why hadn't she? Had she thought she could have fought it on her own? Or had she considered the case lost, her fate sealed? _Lizzie darling sweetest luv. _Why?

"Jack."

There it was again. Her voice. It sounded so real as if-

"Jack."

Although it did sound a bit odd too-

"Jack!"

Jack's eyes snapped open, and he blinked, trying to shake himself out of his reverie.

In the dim light he finally made out the silhouette of somebody standing on the other side of the bars. He quickly rose to his feet, causing Will to take an instinctive step backwards.

"The world changes so little, doesn't it?" Jack came closer to the bars, looking around with mild interest.

"I'd say it changes more than necessary," replied Will grimly, watching him for a moment, and then looking away. He could not help imagining Elizabeth's arms wrapping around this dirty neck that he had foolishly saved more than once.

"I reckon ye didn't help build these cells, did ye?" Jack's slightly mocking tone drew Will's attention back to him.

"No," he answered sternly, and fell silent again. He had planned to say so many things, and yet he could not remember any of them right now.

"Thought not," Jack ran the back of his hand across the bars, his rings jingling against the steel. Then he took it away with a grimace, and half-turned toward the window, leaning his arm against the bars.

There was something strange in his behaviour, and yet Will could not put his finger on just what it was that was so strange... _Maybe he missed her_, he thought numbly, his teeth and fists clenching.

"How many months until you'll drop her in some port, Jack?" he asked in a cold, strained voice, and Jack turned his head to him sharply, eyebrows knitted. "You broke her life. You broke my life. _Our_ lives, after all we've done-"

"Take what ye can, give nothing back," a faint smile that did not reach his eyes flitted across Jack's face. "Ye don't expect apologies from me, do ye?" he asked in a calm voice, too calm even if it was only mocking, too calm for Jack Sparrow in any circumstances; too calm.

Will crossed his arms over his chest, dismissing the thought that something was amiss. "How many months will you be toying with her?"

Jack pushed himself away from the bars, and narrowed his eyes at Will in annoyance. "I'm not toying with her. I married her," he said in a low, firm voice, the words cutting through Will's heart like pieces of glass.

He snorted angrily, and stormed away from the cell, putting his head into his hands. "We were engaged!" he shouted, turning around, and glaring at Jack. "The day Beckett arrested us, it was _our_ wedding day!"

Jack tilted his head to the side looking at him grimly. "'Cause I chose not to come," he said quietly, and for a moment Will thought that he had misheard him.

"What?" he wrinkled his forehead, walking toward the bars.

"'Cause I chose not to come," repeated Jack, examining his nails, his voice serious, with only a hint of tired irony. "I chose not to seek her. I thought I shouldn't," he looked up, and the dark seriousness of his eyes made Will think of the moment he had killed Barbossa. "But do you think she'd hesitate to come with me if I asked her to?" he smiled briefly, and narrowed his eyes. "Before that faithful day of your non-wedding? Do you think she'd turn down the sea, the adventure, the _Pearl_..." a small smirk hovered over his lips for a moment, but he did not continue the enumeration, - for you?"

"She did," snapped Will through his gritted teeth.

"Ah," Jack's smile broadened, even though his eyes remained silent. "You knew, then. You knew, and you let her, or was going to let her leave what she loved behind so she would fit in your bonnie land-bound fairy tale, aye?"

"You know nothing of us," Will snorted condescendingly, glaring at him.

Jack smiled. "Not much to know, I'm afraid."

Will stared at him with irritation, and something more, some burning, nagging feeling of loss, of hurt, of... jealousy. "Why her? Why it had to be her?"

Jack smiled again, and this time there was a glimpse of a smile in his eyes as well. "I spent more time trying to figure that one out myself, than ye practicing with yer swords," he said, taking a step away from the bars, and glancing at the window. The time was flowing mercilessly, and every minute without her was wasted – every minute spent not on looking for her was wasted.

"Are you trying to tell me that you," Will stumbled on the word, and swallowed, "that you love her?" he asked with a grimace.

Jack gave him a long look, as if considering something. His eyes glanced absently around the brig before returning to Will's face. "I need to speak with Jones," he said in a low voice, with a hint of fake carelessness in his tone.

Will was about to snap that he did not care what he needed, when the meaning of his words suddenly reached him. "What for?" he asked, his curiosity taking over the irritation, at least for a moment.

"Left me hat in the Locker," said Jack with a sly half-smile, looking at Will unblinkingly. "I've got to get it back."

Will's eyes flickered to Jack's hat which was sitting quite safely on his head. "What is it now?" he asked suspiciously.

"Don't feel offended. I'm not hoping to find the conversation with him more enjoyable that talking to ye, however-"

"You agreed to everything too easily," Will interrupted him almost absently. "Why do you have to speak to Jones all of a sudden?" he asked sharply. "He will be only too happy to send you back-" he stopped, and looked for a moment intently at Jack and at a small humorless smile that appeared on his face."Why do you want to go back to the Locker?" he asked in a hollow voice, suddenly remembering what Jack had said. Something was wrong.

"Can you arrange that?" asked Jack, ignoring his question.

Will swallowed, the question sounding almost as if he was asking him for a favor. After all what had happened Jack asking him for a favor, and for such a strange one at that, was more than suspicious. He took a step forward, and stopped in front of the bars. "Is Elizabeth alright?" he asked slowly, watching Jack's face carefully not to miss even the slightest hint that his expression might betray.

There was a moment of hollow silence before Jack said in a low voice: "Will be. If ye'll bloody make Jones come down here," he added, holding Will's stunned gaze for a moment, and then turning away from him.

* * *

She thought she would wake up in that damn room once again, but when she opened her eyes, she was not even lying down, but sitting in a chair in a very noisy place, the clattering sound of broken glass startling her into consciousness.

Elizabeth looked around, blinking, her eyelids still feeling heavy from the strange state she had been in. Was she asleep? It felt similar to the state she was in when she had traveled to the past... _And perhaps for the same reason_, she thought, scanning her surroundings, for a moment trying to make herself believe that she was in Tortuga and that at the end of the room she would see Jack walking through the door at any moment.

"You woke up, I see."

Elizabeth raised her eyes, and met the man's colorless gaze. He looked at her for a while, and then put a glass with a drink in front of her, and sat down at the table across from her.

"What is that for?" asked Elizabeth sharply, glancing at the glass. _"Drink up, me hearties, yo ho!"_ She bit her lower lip, and stared at him coldly.

"You aren't thirsty?" he asked in a low voice, amazingly audible even despite the noise around them.

"I didn't ask for a drink," said Elizabeth irately, pushing the glass away with the mere intention of moving it toward him, but she had apparently pushed the glass too hard, and it fell, the drink spilling on the wooden table and onto the floor. She gasped in surprise, but bit back an automatic apology, and just averted her eyes, and sat back in her chair, watching the people in the room, as if nothing had happened.

He did not even stir, neither did he say anything, but she could feel his eyes on her, and the feeling was irritating enough. She scanned the dimly lit interiors of the tavern, wondering who from among those people was going to die... Was it going to be an accident? A sword fight? Somebody was going to choke?

She scolded herself inwardly for the ironic tone of her thoughts. She was just so tired, and her eyes felt painfully dry. She wished she could close her eyes, and then open them again, and find herself in Jack's arms, his lips pressing smiles to her neck, his hands claiming every inch of her as if she belonged to him and nobody else, not even herself; his voice hovering over her, sweet whisper chanting her name with transfixing reverence-

"It was your choice to come here, and yet you behave as if it was some kind of punishment."

Elizabeth shifted her eyes to the man, the reality of her situation crushing down at her as if she had just got here a moment ago, the pain so fresh in her heart as if Jack was only a touch away.

"My choice?" Elizabeth arched an eyebrow giving him a condescending look, clinging to her haughtiness in order to keep herself from breaking down in front of him. "What do you know of my choices," she said, shifting her gaze to the table, even the indifferent, wooden surface reminding her of Tortuga, of the _Black Pearl_, of Jack...

He smiled faintly. "And yet you think you know everything of mine," he said, slowly extending his hand, and putting the empty glass back to its upright position.

"I don't know anything about you and I don't want to know anything," she said sharply, and for a very brief moment felt guilty because of a strange look he gave her, as if he had expected that exact answer.

"I suppose you don't," he said indifferently, pushing the glass away with the back of his hand.

"Why are we here? Who is going to die?" asked Elizabeth, wishing she had not knocked over the glass; she was thirsty.

The man glanced at the table in the other side of the room where several people played a game of cards.

"Let the time come," he said, looking back at her. "Would you wish for another drink?" he asked, catching her glancing at the empty glass.

"No," Elizabeth looked away with an annoyed expression on her face.

He looked at her for a moment before rising to his feet. "I will bring you something. Unless you want something in particular?"

She kept looking out at the room, and not at him. She was tempted to ask for rum, but she would not give him the satisfaction of knowing something – _anything –_ about her.

He waited for her answer for a moment, and then walked away, and as soon as he left her alone, Elizabeth felt an urge to run. What would he do if she ran out of this tavern, and just ran where her feet would take her? Would she be able to hide? She did not think so. Also, if other people could not see her, nobody would help her, she could not communicate with anybody. She wondered if the glass, when she was moving it, was visible? She pinched the glass experimentally, and stole a glance around. Nobody was paying any attention to her, but she was unable to tell if it was because she was invisible, or because nobody cared much about self-moving glasses in the state of either complete or even partial inebriation.

Slowly, she stood up, and tried to see where the man had gone, but she could not spot him in the crowd. Did he trust her not to run away, or did he just know he would find her wherever she would go?

Maybe she should run just to see his reaction, to see what he was capable of. It could help her know what to expect in case she would ever try-

Her thoughts suddenly fell apart like a mountain of snowflakes defeated by a single gust of wind. Her eyes widened, and she stared in disbelief at the sight, almost certain that her mind was playing tricks on her. It must have... It did... It...

Her heart was beating so fast she thought it might jump out of her chest, blood pounding in her ears bells ringing- Bells ringing? Something was ringing only she could not guess what it was too transfixed by the appearance of the man who had walked through the doorway with a very grim expression on his face, hat in hand, and at least three women already making their way toward him.

Elizabeth could not move wondering what would happen if he looked at her... He would not see her, so... But still she could see him and it was enough to give her an overwhelming vertigo that threatened to blur her vision.

She tried hard not to faint, not to lose this moment - whatever it was, a figment of her imagination, a reality... Where was she? _When_ she was? What was he doing here?

Only after a moment she noticed she was crying, tears rolling down her cheeks as she looked at Jack looking around the tavern in search of an unoccupied table.

She did not know whether to cry or to laugh. There was comfort in the very sight of him, and yet the realization that she could not touch him, could not be seen by him was bringing her pain. She wanted to run to him, to feel his arms around her for a brief moment; one kiss, if she could only have one more kiss maybe it would give her strength...

Nervously, she tried to dismiss her feverish thoughts knowing how hopeless they all were. Was it not enough of a miracle that she could see him? Look at him for a while? In a moment the man would be back and this miracle would be over, she did not want to draw his attention to Jack in any way.

Jack spotted an empty table somewhere in the tavern, and declining with a half-hearted smiles the pleasurable company that was somehow always seeking him wherever he went, he started walking toward the table, his thoughts revolving around the loss of his ship that hurt all the same, even after two years.

The loss of his ship, and-

He stopped dead in his tracks, and blinked.

Mesmerized by his appearance, Elizabeth drank in the sight of him, trying to make herself believe that maybe, just maybe after those twenty years she could risk looking for him... Maybe she could explain everything to him? Maybe they could start anew? Maybe-

With her heart going from furious, uneven beats to an almost complete stop she had a sudden impression that he was looking at her, and it felt so wonderful to feel his gaze on her skin... Whatever he was looking at that was apparently behind her, it felt so blissfully reviving to imagine that it was her he was looking at, even though of course he could not see her.

She looked back at him, smiling faintly, a broken smile accompanied by tears still streaming down her face, and he just stood looking back at... something, his eyes wide, his face pale, the expression on his face unreadable.

At last, she gave in to her curiosity, and decided to see what he was looking at. She turned her head to look over her shoulder, and was greeted by... the wall. An empty, dark wall. Her face drained of all color, and very carefully she turned around-

He stood in front of her, looking at _her _warily with his dark, intent eyes.

Elizabeth gazed at him, unable to utter a word, or even form a coherent thought.

"Where- where have ye been?" he whispered almost inaudibly, licking his lips, and swallowing, staring at her like one would at a ghost while she fervently tried to comprehend the fact that he could see her. How could he see her? How could he possibly see her?!

"Jack..." she mouthed, his name causing her heart to clench and flutter at the same time.

He stared at her with a mixture of disbelief and exhilaration on his face. "Where have ye been for the last two years, Lizzie?"


	43. Chapter 43

A/N: _**Thank you so much for all the wonderful reviews! **_**:)**

...My internet is working again!! -dances- :)

Disclaimer: Disney owns PotC.

**Chapter 43**

"Calypso won't help us! She loathes the Brethren! She hates all of us!" bellowed Villanueva, hitting the tabletop with his hand.

"Calypso, is our only chance," hissed Barbossa in an annoyed tone of voice.

"It was the Court that bound her. There is no reason to believe that she won't take her revenge on us once we free her," said Mistress Ching grimly.

"I'm beginning to get tired of repeating the same thing over and over again," said Barbossa angrily. "We have nothing else on our side but her."

A loud explosion interrupted the exchange on the deck of the _Silver Frenzy_. Everybody stared out at the ocean and a group of approaching ships.

"Apparently, time is also among the things we don't have," said Barbossa somberly through his clenched teeth, turning back toward the Pirate Lords, who were glancing at each other in silence.

Barbossa snorted, and produced keys from his pocket. "Bring her," he said in a low voice, throwing the keys to Pintel and Ragetti.

* * *

"You wanted to speak to me."

The words were uttered in a half-mocking tone, and Jack twitched his nose, and slowly turned around. "Actually-"

Davy Jones took a step forward, and walked into the cell through the bars. Jack winced. "No need for such a... close visit, really" he said, wrinkling his forehead with slight disgust, having a constant impression that the tentacles were trying to reach him on their own accord... for some reason.

"I won't have being ordered around by everybody," said Davy Jones darkly, but then his facial expression relaxed. "But you made me curious, Jack Sparrow. What could you possibly want to talk to me about?" he asked with exaggerated consideration.

"Well," Jack rubbed his forehead thinking that perhaps the whole idea was not such a good idea after all. "I was thinkin' 'bout what ye said, an' I thought that perhaps ye're right," he said with a cautious, artificial smile. Davy Jones squinted. "'Bout the debt an' all," added Jack, still smiling.

Davy Jones looked at him for a moment, and then laughed briefly, causing the tentacles to shake violently. Jack cringed as few drops of a rather unidentifiable substance landed on his face. He wiped them with the back of his hand, and joined Davy Jones in his laughter as sincerely as he could.

"For a moment you had me thinking you wanted to go back to the Locker," said Davy Jones, his laughter reduced to single chuckles.

Jack chuckled as well, but then knitted his eyebrows, his facial expression turning serious. "That's exactly what I want," he said in a low voice, and Davy Jones stopped chuckling. "I want to go back to the Locker," said Jack, looking him straight in the eye. Davy Jones narrowed his eyes at him, and tilted his head to the side. Jack cleared his throat. "And more precisely," he said after a pause, "I'd like to go to the Maelstrom of Time."

Davy Jones continued to look at him intently for a moment, and then his mouth twisted into a sneer, and he chuckled once again, a glimpse of ill-boding insight flashing in his eyes. "Don't tell me you fell in love with a Death's bride?" he asked mockingly with a wry smile. Jack blinked, and furrowed his brows in confusion. Davy Jones smiled even more. "Or perhaps it was Death that fell in love with yours?" he asked knowingly.

"I'm afraid you've lost me a few sentences ago, mate," said Jack in a hollow tone of voice, cold shivers running up his spine.

"How much do you know about Maelstrom of Time?" asked Davy Jones, leaning toward him, one of his tentacles brushing over Jack's shoulder.

Jack glanced at the tentacle, and twitched his nose. "Less than there is to know, I imagine," he said stiffly.

"Oh, certainly," Davy Jones straightened up, studying Jack's face for a moment. "However, I may not be willing to make another deal with you, so..." he said, squinting.

Jack's eyes lightened with mischief. "I would if I were ye," he said with a habitual, cocky smile, even though he felt as if his outward cheerfulness was separated from him by a glass wall. "Unless ye're happy with yer heart being Beckett's new plaything-" Two long tentacles wrapped around Jack's neck, and he frowned. "I meant... figuratively," he added, but the grip of the tentacles only tightened. "Literally, that is," he corrected quickly.

"And how am I to know you won't stab the heart as soon as you put your hands on it?" whispered Davy Jones, bringing his face closer to Jack.

"I don't think I have a face for tentacles," replied Jack in a strained voice, forcing a smile.

Davy Jones snorted. "Do you want me to believe you don't want to live forever?"

"Right now I'm more focused on living at all," whispered Jack, the tentacles around his neck making it difficult for him to breathe.

Davy Jones let go of him, and took a step backwards. Jack drew a sharp intake of breath. "If you'll bring me my heart, I'll tell you about the Maelstrom of Time," said Jones in a low voice.

Jack shook his head. "I was thinking ye could tell me 'bout it first, and then I'd make sure yer thump-thump will be returned to ye in no time, eh?"

"I like my proposition better," said Davy Jones squinting.

"I completely understand how ye feel, mate," said Jack, taking a few staggering steps toward him. I feel exactly the same way. I like my proposition better too. And in fact my proposition _is _better, so being as logical as we both no doubt are, we should choose the more logical proposition, which happens to be the one I proposed, and not because I proposed it, but simply because the proposition I proposed was a better proposition that happened to be proposed by me, aye?" finished Jack with a glittering smile.

Davy Jones' face twitched slightly, and he blinked several times. "You will bring me my heart," he half-stated, half-asked, his eyes piercing into Jack.

"Of course!" said Jack with cheerful reassurance. "As soon as I'll return from the Maelstrom of Time," he added firmly, watching Davy Jones' face carefully.

Davy Jones smiled. "Well, but you won't return from the Maelstrom of Time," he said under his breath with a sweetish smile.

Jack's face fell slightly, and he looked at Davy Jones with narrowed eyes. "A person can be brought back from the Maelstrom of Time by their enemy," he repeated what Teague had said, trying to sound more certain than he was.

"Don't believe everything you read. There's more to every legend than what's written about them," said Davy Jones somberly. "You won't return from the Maelstrom of Time, because you can't get there," he added after a pause in a lighter tone.

Jack stared at him in silence, his face drained of all color. He refused to believe that there was no way to rescue Elizabeth. There must be a way. There was always a way. "Why can't I get there?" he asked quietly.

Davy Jones stepped toward him, the tentacles fluttering in dangerous proximity to his face. "Because you're already there," he whispered with a dark half-smile.

* * *

"Lizzie..." Jack raised his hand, and touched her cheek.

Elizabeth shivered, staring at him with increasing astonishment, and yet the moment he touched her cheek all her doubts suddenly lost their meaning, and she leaned into his hand, looking into his eyes greedily. Maybe it was just a figment of her imagination? Maybe he would be gone in a moment?

Maybe she was just thinking about him intensely enough-

"Where have ye been?"

His question brought her back to the reality. The reality. _He is real_, she thought numbly, her heart pounding furiously in her chest.

"You can see me?" she whispered, staring at him disbelievingly, afraid that the moment she started believing he really was there, would be the moment of his disappearance.

"What's happened?" he ignored her question, gazing at her in wonder, and cupping her face in his hands. She smiled brokenly, his hands so warm, so familiarly coarse against her skin. "How did ye get off that island? It looked- I thought-" he shook his head in puzzlement.

Shyly, she reached out and placed her hand on his cheek, and then quickly took it away with a gasp. She put her hand over her mouth, and took an abrupt step backwards. "I'm just imagining it," she whispered, hugging herself, and feeling the tears welling up in her eyes.

Jack wrinkled his forehead, and studied her face for a moment, and then something flashed in his eyes, some kind of triumphant recognition.

If there was a shadow of doubt in him whether it really was the girl whom he had met two years ago in Tortuga, it was gone the moment she started acting as weird as before.

Catching her off guard he grabbed her wrist, and began pulling her with him. "We have to talk," he said decidedly, dragging her across the crowded room.

"I can't-" Elizabeth looked around with apprehension, trying to spot the man who was most likely on his way back to the table. He would certainly not be happy to find her missing, and-

She felt Jack's grip on her wrist tighten, and she could no longer remember what she was thinking about. Suddenly the only thing that mattered was that he was here, he was here! With her, and he could see her, he-

And what if he was only a hallucination after all? If Maelstrom of Time was any similar to the Locker... Jack had hallucinations in the Locker, why should not she imagine things here?

She did not know which version she actually preferred. It hurt to think that she was only hallucinating, but she was more scared of the possibility that it was all really happening, because it would put not only her, but also him in danger.

"Jack, I can't, wait," she whispered half-heartedly, following him outside the tavern without much struggle nonetheless.

"Ye can't?" asked Jack in a suddenly sharp tone of voice, backing her against the outside wall of the tavern, his body pressed flush against hers.

She gasped, feeling the tears rolling down her cheeks despite her efforts to stop them. Was it some kind of torture? Was it a hallucination made by that man to torture her? To break her? If it was, he succeeded, because she could not stop the tears, her emotions taking control over her so quickly that she had no time to even think about hiding them.

"But ye could disappear without a word of explanation?" asked Jack, his voice miraculously real, as he studied her face with dark intensity. In his memory he still had a clear image of her disappearing virtually in front of his eyes, but perhaps his memory was wrong... It was after the mutiny, it was hot and humid... Perhaps he got a wrong impression... Perhaps he hid somewhere... He did not know how it was possible that she had got off that island? Maybe she had left on the same ship they had, only unnoticed? Maybe she had been fed up with him, and used some kind of trick... His brows furrowed, as he tried to come up with a logical explanation, but to no avail. The whole story was not making any sense, any sense at all. Her disappearance, her appearance now... Or maybe she was a witch? As he had once thought... Maybe she had really disappeared back then? In which case he would have a right to take his revenge for toying with him. Unless she was not toying with him... Unless she was not a witch... But then again how else-

Jack groaned, dismissing all his unhelpful, tangled thoughts. He grabbed her wrists, and pinned them to the wall. "Answer me," he snapped through his gritted teeth, trying to ignore the intoxicating scent of her skin, her hair that felt so familiar that he could hardly keep himself from kissing her senseless without waiting for any explanation.

_Lizzie._

His eyes fluttered shut for a moment, as he tried to fight the flow of memories. He missed her. He had missed her so much for these two years that sometimes he could not believe it was possible to miss somebody that much. He was dreaming about her every night, thinking about her during the day... He began to suspect he was obsessed with her – and soon the suspicion turned into certainty, and he began learning to just live with it – live with this overwhelming, irrational feeling of longing, grief, loss, remorse... If only he had known what had happened, why had she 'disappeared'? If it was not for Bill Turner who had seen her disappear as well, he could have started thinking that she was a figment of his imagination altogether. He had known her only for a couple of days, he could probably count the words they exchanged, there was so little he remembered, so little that happened, really, and yet this little was _everything_, everything he could think of and dream about. He could not even concentrate on tracking the _Pearl_ and that bloody traitor. In fact, as of late, tracking the _Pearl_ had become not the aim in itself, but rather a task helping him keep his mind off the girl who made such a painful mess out of his mental life in virtually no time.

He had thought her lost. Despite all his dreams and wishes he had had enough common sense to accept the fact that whoever or whatever she was she was lost; and yet here she was, standing right in front of him, exactly like he remembered her, except that she looked very tired and very sad, and the realization suddenly made him feel guilty for his harsh tone, and the way he treated her holding her hands pinned to the wall, her body-

In his amazement, he did not notice until now how close they were standing to each other; so close he could feel her hipbone digging into his thigh.

"Jack..." she whispered, and it was all he needed to forget about the world, and get lost – in her; again.

He slanted his mouth across hers without thinking, with urgency of a drowning man, for suddenly he understood that he had been drowning without her, drowning in that inexplicable longing, unsolved mystery of the feelings she had evoked in him, and hurtful perplexity as to what had happened to her, and why she had been taken away from him.

She was clearly surprised by his actions, and when his lips touched hers she froze, and even though she was not pushing him away, she was also not kissing him back. He let go of her wrists, and cupped her face, and then she suddenly started returning his kisses, her lips moving against his, and when he felt her hands wrapping around his neck he could not suppress an overwhelming feeling of joy as if he found the greatest treasure of all, one that was lost to the world, and yet here he was holding it in his arms.

"_Ye're me treasure, me silver an' gold."_

"Where the hell have ye been, girl?" he whispered huskily against her lips, stroking the sides of her face, forgetting all about his anger and uncertainty.

She looked at him with the only too familiar tears glimmering in her hazel eyes, slowly shaking her head. "Oh, Jack," she whispered in a quivering voice, pressing her lips to his in a soft kiss. She knew she should go back inside before the man would return, she knew she should not stay here with Jack any longer, but it was not her fault that he could see her, was it? And how could she just resign from the possibility to kiss him again... one more time... just one more time... just one more... one more time...

They both held each other tightly, as if afraid to let go, afraid that the other might vanish if their grip was not strong enough. They kissed, but he could suddenly feel a bitter taste reaching his lips, so he broke the kiss, and opened his eyes.

"Why are ye crying, Lizzie?" he asked quietly with a faint smile, tracing the outline of her face with his fingertips.

"You remember me," she whispered in a half-questioning tone, giving up on her attempts to understand how it was possible that he could see her. Instead, it dawned on her that he remembered her, even after a couple of days they had spent together, two years later he still remembered her, he still... felt something for her. Of course two years did not equal twenty... But it gave her hope nonetheless.

He widened his eyes at her. "Remember you?" he stared at her for a moment, different emotions passing through his face, as he apparently tried to find the right words to answer her. He clutched her shoulders and shook her lightly. "I loved you," he whispered, looking her deeply in the eyes. Elizabeth grimaced, more tears escaping from the corners of her eyes. He inched his face yet closer to hers. "I love you," he said almost inaudibly, and a pained expression on his face made her heart clench.

She sobbed hysterically, and threw herself into his arms, wrapping her arms around his neck tightly. "Jack, Jack, I love you too, I always will, I'm so sorry, I-" she tilted her head backwards to look at him, and the sudden light in his eyes made her feel even worse. "I have to go-" she whispered tentatively, kissing his lips. He drew back abruptly.

"Where?!" he shook her again, this time less gently. "Where do ye have to go? Where did ye disappear? _How _did ye disappear? Who are ye?" he asked the last question quietly, after a pause, looking at her intently.

Elizabeth closed her eyes, hot tears burning her eyelids. "I wish I could explain all that to you," she said hollowly, slowly opening her eyes, half-surprised he was still there, his dark, mesmerizing gaze as real as ever.

"So explain all that to me," he said urgently, sliding his hands up her arms, and into her hair that was still tangled from the winter wind, although she suddenly noticed that the black coat was gone, and she was wearing only the black dress.

"I can't," whispered Elizabeth, wincing.

Jack groaned, and pulled her away from the wall, starting to drag her away from the tavern. "We'll talk in a quieter place," he said, but Elizabeth snatched her hand out of his grasp.

"I can't go anywhere," she said somberly. "I have to go, I'm sorry," she cupped his face, pressed her lips to his, and stayed like that for a moment, and then quickly pulled away. But before she managed to run away, he sneaked his arm around her waist, and pulled her back into his arms.

"If ye think I'll let ye go anywhere-" he started with a faint trace of his mischievous smile.

"You better will," a voice interrupted him, and Elizabeth stiffened, "let her go."

Jack looked over Elizabeth's shoulder, and frowned.

* * *

Davy Jones looked at the confused look on Jack's face with cool satisfaction.

"I thought the Maelstrom of Time was located at World's End, in the Locker..." started Jack hesitantly, trying to recall all the legends he had heard or read concerning the place... _if it was a place_, he thought suddenly.

"If you insist I may send you there, so you'll be able to check for yourself," said Davy Jones, squinting.

"No!" exclaimed Jack in a high-pitched tone of voice. "I will... rely on yer knowledge," he said with an artificial smile. "Even if I don't really see how it can be applied," he muttered grimly after a pause, wrinkling his forehead. "So it is not true that people who made the deal with Death go to the Maelstrom of Time and suffer there as much as they can endure-"

Davy Jones cut him off. "Maelstrom of Time is one thing, and Death is quite another," he said matter-of-factly with a grimace. "Maelstrom of Time is where all the souls are before and go after their Earthly existence. It can be heaven, it can be hell, it can be everything. This world," he said glancing around, "can be considered the Maelstrom of Time as well. Maelstrom of Time is everywhere. Maelstrom of Time _may _be everywhere. It's a matter of interpretation," Davy Jones tilted his head to the side with a small sneer. "As for the place of suffering," he smiled sardonically, "the legend you mentioned is actually the description of life of the living." Jack blinked, watching him carefully. "All the living made _a deal with Death_, and they suffer as much as they can endure, do they not?"

Jack considered it for a moment. "If life is the deal with Death, where is Elizabeth?" he asked frowningly, in all the confusion forgetting about not giving away the details of the reasons for his desperation.

Davy Jones gave him an artificial smile. "There is more than one deal with Death that can be made, and there is more than one Death, because no Death is eternal. Unless-"

"Death can die?" Jack broke in, half-hopeful, half-sceptical.

"Death is already dead," said Davy Jones in a low voice.

Jack nodded apologetically, but then frowned. "Already?" he raised his eyebrows.

Davy Jones sighed somewhat impatiently. "What happens to the souls after people die?" he asked, narrowing his eyes at Jack, who was beginning to like the entire tale less with every minute. "They go to hell or to heaven."

"How about that place in between?" asked Jack, waving his hand, as if trying to remember.

"Some souls are not virtuous enough to go to heaven, and yet no evil enough to go to hell," answered Davy Jones thoughtfully.

"And they go to-" started Jack with a small, optimistic smile, happy to at last follow the logic of the argument, but Davy Jones cut him off.

"They become Death, until ultimately their fate is decided and they move on either to hell or heaven. However, some of them don't want to move on. They want to be Death. Forever. And in order to do that they have to... _acquire_ a pure soul-"

Jack paled, and leaped toward Davy Jones. "But Elizabeth is not dead! Her soul can't be taken away from her-"

Davy Jones shook his head, and laughed; his bitter, ironic laughter sending cold shivers up Jack's spine.

"It won't," said Davy Jones to Jack's relief, but the relief did not last long. "Have you really never heard tales of Death's brides?" asked Davy Jones in a low voice.

* * *

"Let her go," the man in the grey coat took a few steps toward Jack and Elizabeth.

"And who are ye to tell me what I should do?" asked Jack smugly, tightening his embrace around Elizabeth who tried to make herself slip out of his embrace, but somehow every stolen second in his arms felt so blissful that she thought she might as well stay like that as long as possible.

"She's my wife."

Elizabeth smiled brokenly, when all of a sudden she realized that it was not Jack who had said the words...

Jack's embrace around her slowly loosened. He looked at her, and she met his eyes, and lightly shook her head, but he must have not noticed it, because reluctantly he let go of her, and she felt very cold once again. She did not turn around, and only looked at Jack, and it broke her heart to see, once again, that look of another encountered betrayal on his face.

Jack stared at her in disbelief. Married? When had she got bloody married!? When they had met, he remembered, she had told him about some man who drowned, the man she had claimed she "killed", because she had left him on a ship that had sunk... So now it must be somebody else, somebody she had met during those two years, somebody she met after they- For a moment he just wanted to run, to never look at her again, and just run. In different circumstances he might have laughed at himself for being such an idiot. He had spent two years thinking about her, worrying about her, dreaming about her, while she had simply gotten married to somebody else!...

"Jack..." whispered Elizabeth not knowing what to do, what to say. Another awful good-bye. Another heart-wrenching memory. She should not have done that to him. She should not have done that to herself; to both of them.

"Elizabeth." She felt the man's hand on her shoulder, gently tugging her to turn around or walk away or both, and yet she could not move, she could not make herself move or avert her eyes from _her husband's face_. If she could at least tell him that one day _they_ would get married...

Would they?...

A wave of cold dismay washed over her as she suddenly realized that so many things had happened that could change the chain of events. Will he come to Port Royal? She had told him herself not to come, because at that time she had thought he was dead... And she had wanted to prevent him from meeting her. But now, now everything was different. Will he come? What if he will not come to Port Royal? What if they will never meet?

"Elizabeth, we have to go."

But Elizabeth stood frozen to the spot, unable to move, and maybe it was simply her motionlessness, or the look in her eyes, or the tears on her face that triggered a drastic change in Jack's perception of the situation.

"It doesn't look to me she'd like to be goin' anywhere with ye, mate," said Jack in a low, resolute voice, taking a step toward Elizabeth, shifting his eyes between her and the man. What if the man was lying? She was crying, she was still crying, and happily married people should not cry... at least it was his guess that they should not.

On an impulse Elizabeth threw herself into Jack's arms. "Don't let me go," she whispered hotly into his ear, senselessly cuddling against him. All of a sudden she thought that she would die if they were to part again. She could not live another minute without him. And as foolish as her behaviour obviously was, she could not think about anything else to do at the moment.

The man had said that he could not kill people on his own accord, and so he could not kill Jack right now, because it was not his hour to die. He could not kill Jack in the past, even though she knew that it would not take him long to travel to the future and do it then, but that would require leaving her here... and somehow she knew he would not do it.

"Ah, I wouldn't want to be doin' this if I were ye." Jack's voice shook her out of her reverie. He wrapped his arm around her, and reached for his pistol with his other hand.

Elizabeth glanced over her shoulder, and saw the silver pistol in the man's hand. Maybe her conclusions were incorrect, maybe he could kill Jack without traveling anywhere... She met the man's colorless eyes, and held his expressionless gaze for a moment. Then she turned to Jack, and kissed him quickly on the mouth.

"I love you," she whispered, and to his stupefaction broke free from his embrace.

Jack glanced at the man, and then grabbed Elizabeth's hand, and pulled her back toward him. "I'm not goin' to let ye disappear again," he hissed, disregarding the horrified look in her eyes.

"You will remember this," she whispered more to herself than to him, suddenly struck by the idea that terrified her at first, but then made her heart flutter. "You will remember this," she repeated with a weak smile, cupping Jack's face in her hands. His eyes were fixed on the man, but he glanced at her uncertainly, suspecting one of those moments when she was making no sense, which he considered adorable in general, although right now it threatened to be unnecessarily distractive. "Jack, listen. You have to remember this," she whispered ardently, while he tried to maneuver her to move out of the fire line.

"Lizzie Lizzie later luv," he whispered as patiently as he could, motioning her to stand behind him.

The man with strange eyes cocked his pistol.

"No, Jack, I'll go," whispered Elizabeth, shooting frightened looks at the man. "Just... remember. I love you, I..." she moved, to Jack's dismay, to stand in front of him again. "I'll be back in twenty years," she said very quietly, but very distinctly, looking at him intensely.

Jack blinked. She was quite insane two years ago already, but now her state clearly deteriorated.

"Lizzie-" he tried to interrupt her, glancing at the man, who simply stood with his silver pistol aimed at him... or her... or them both, it was impossible to tell at the moment. The blank expression on his face, however, made Jack think that he was insane as well. Of course, he thought with a wry, inward smile, with his luck he could not fall in love with anybody else but a crazy lass who happened to have a crazy husband. _Bugger._

"Jack, let me go, I'll back, we'll meet, and then," Elizabeth whispered feverishly, tugging on his shirtsleeves. "I'll disappear, but I'll be back in twenty years. I didn't leave you, I just had to... Will you remember? Please, Jack, please, remember," she turned around with a sob, and Jack needed a moment to get over her stunning monologue, before he could stop her from going back to the man who at the sight of her approaching lowered his pistol.

"First 'don't let me go', then 'let me go'", muttered Jack irately, pushing Elizabeth behind him with annoyance.

A scream from somewhere from the inside of the tavern attracted the man's attention, and prevented him from raising his pistol again. Elizabeth looked at the man, catching a flash of rainbow in his colorless eyes, and it suddenly occurred to her that his eyes might acquire that strange, transient color quality whenever he sensed that somebody was about to die.

He darted his eyes to her warningly, but paradoxically that glimpse of threat in the way he looked at her caused Elizabeth to smile inwardly. If he was looking at her like that, it could only mean that he _had to _go inside, therefore-

But her train of thought was suddenly interrupted by the noise of a pistol being fired.


	44. Chapter 44

A/N: _**Thank you so much for all the amazing reviews! **_**:)**

Disclaimer: PotC belong to Disney.

**Chapter 44**

"_Have you really never heard tales of Death's brides?" _

Jack leaned his forehead against the cold bars of the cell, and closed his eyes.

He had expected many things – as always; he had expected nearly everything – as usual, and he was willing to do and go through everything that was necessary to bring his wife back. But while preparing himself for a trip back to the Locker, for pain and madness, for a very long night of uncertainty, he had never suspected that there could have been something else standing in his way, something that had nothing to do with how much he could and was willing to endure.

He stood motionlessly, Davy Jones' voice drifting to him, their conversation replaying itself in his mind tirelessly.

"_He who wants to remain Death forever has to acquire a pure soul, a soul of a child – Death's child. And a child has to have a mother. But it can't be just any woman. It must be a woman who is in love, because only love can force her to make a deal with Death. When the deal is struck, she becomes the Death's bride. She accompanies her husband and takes lives away from people until her feelings fade and her heart dies from grief, and then-"_

"_What if she is strong and valiant? What if her heart won't die?"_

"_Oh, but it will, it will."_

Jack opened his eyes, and turned around, staring grimly at the wall.

"_How do I get her back? Is that legend about bringing one's enemy back from the Maelstrom of Time a nonsense altogether?"_

"_Nonsense? Oh, no, it isn't. It's simply a condition that is supposed to be impossible to fulfill. You wouldn't give up your life for an enemy, would you?"_

Jack tilted his head to the side, catching a glimpse of sunlight illuminating the water surface. _My sweet, darling enemy. Hold on, luv. Hold on._

* * *

"Jack!" Elizabeth screamed, staring in shock at the silver pistol that lay on the ground next to the man in the grey coat's feet. Even with his limited range of facial expressions he looked at least half as stunned as she.

Jack blew the smoke off his pistol, and looked at her questioningly. He could not guess whether she was surprised that he had fired, that he had managed to knock the pistol out of the man's hand, or perhaps by something else. Perhaps he just looked exceptionally handsome when he was shooting at people.

"Let's go," he grabbed her hand, and ignoring her protests, started to run, pulling her with him.

Elizabeth glanced over her shoulder at the man who slowly picked up his silver weapon. She did not know what she should do. She was afraid to run away, and yet she could not find it in herself to snatch her hand away from Jack's grip. Even though it might equal putting them both in danger. On the other hand she did not think the man would do anything without getting her back first. And as long as she could be near Jack...

She looked at him as they ran, amazed by the fact that she could see him, that she could be with him – again. Again – in more than one sense, as she suddenly realized that she missed them both: the Jack from the present, and the Jack from the past; she missed the similarities between them, and missed the subtle differences, the traces of change, hints of experience – and the lack of it.

They stopped in front of a door, and Jack pushed it open, letting Elizabeth inside. "We're safe here," he said reassuringly, closing the door behind them, and pressing her against the wall. "Who is he?" he asked in a sharper tone, looking at her face searchingly, his hands on her shoulders.

She blinked, for the first time allowing herself to feel all the exhaustion from the last several days wash over her, but she used all her will power to keep herself from fainting. "Jack," she whispered, slowly gliding her arms around his neck, and smiling weakly at the look in his darkening eyes. It felt as if the time stopped, as if time did not matter as long as they were together, because every time they were together all the feelings were exactly the same, untarnished, intact.

"Lizzie," Jack wrinkled his forehead threateningly. "Who is-"

She brushed her lips against his ever so lightly, and trembled when his hands found their way around her, pulling her closer. He closed his eyes, and captured her lips in a long, passionate kiss.

"He is not my husband," she whispered, holding his gaze for a moment, and then kissing him again. _You are._

"Good," he murmured, deepening the kiss, and tightening his embrace around her. "But who-"

Elizabeth put a finger across his lips. "We don't have much time. Let's not waste it," she said quietly, but Jack tilted his head backwards when she tried to kiss him again.

"We have all the time in the world," he said seriously, looking at her intensely. She dropped her gaze to the floor. "Lizzie," he propped her chin with his hand. "What's going on? What happened to you two years ago? Where were you? I saw-"

She cupped his face in her hands, and the feeling of her delicate fingers on his skin sent hot shivers up his spine. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you," she whispered, smiling faintly, and caressing his face with her fingertips.

"Try me," he said, turning his head to kiss her palm.

She brushed his dreadlocks over his shoulder with a smile, and leaned into him, burying her face in the crook of his neck. "I hardly believe it myself," she whispered, placing soft kisses on his skin.

He drew a sharp intake of breath, and splayed his hands on her back, pulling her toward him as close as possible. "I want to help you. How can I help you if you won't tell me what's happening?" he whispered into her ear, and then brushed his lips across her cheek.

_She is here she is here she is here_, he thought feverishly, hardly keeping himself from laughing out loud.

"It helps that you're here now," she whispered against his neck, nibbling on his skin. "There is nothing else you can-"

He roughly slid his hands to her face, and looked at her seriously. "I will do everything," he said firmly with a hint of frustration in his voice. "I will do anything for you. Just tell me." He grimaced at the sight of tears welling up in her eyes. "What's your story, Lizzie," he asked lowly, gently brushing a single tear off her face with his thumb. "What are you running from?"

She looked at him, trying to smile, but somehow her every attempt to smile caused more tears to flow. She wondered what would happen if she stayed here. Forever. Could she stay here forever?... There would be no danger of their not meeting in the future. They could track the _Black Pearl_ together, get it back, and then sail to Isla Cruces maybe even before Beckett would learn about Davy Jones and his chest.

However... she was living right now too. She was still in England. What would happen to the other _her_ if she was to stay with Jack from now on? He would never come to Port Royal, and... she would drown, maybe?... Unless something else would happen.

It was all so tangled, so complicated, that she could not grasp everything that there was to grasp, the possibilities were endless, the perils unforeseeable. Destiny was a dangerous thing to play with, she understood that much well enough. And yet it was too late now, she already made some irretrievable changes in the past. If now, after knowing her, a few years later he would meet her in Port Royal, how would he react? Would he just consider the striking similarity between Elizabeth Swann and the girl he once knew accidental? Elizabeth and Lizzie. Even the names might make him suspicious. How would it change his behaviour in the future? What would be the influence of his memories on his actions?

She leaned down, and they kissed slowly, although she felt that he was not going to let her off that easily this time.

"Lizzie," he looked at her searchingly.

"When we met... two years ago I thought you were dead," she whispered, brushing her fingertips along his lips. Jack knitted his eyebrows, trying his best to understand what she was saying without showing any traces of confusion on his face which - he thought - she might find discouraging. "That's why I was crying so much, I thought I was talking to a dead man."

"Oh," acknowledged Jack diplomatically, pushing her hair off her shoulders. "But why are you crying now?" he asked, even though her previous statement did not make any sense for him either.

"Now..." she grimaced. "Now I'm crying because we can't be together for the next twenty years, and I don't know if you'll even remember me after that," she whispered in a quivering voice, snuggling her face into his chest.

Jack blinked, frowned, and blinked again. Why did he even bother asking for an explanation? he thought with an inward sigh.

"Lizze," he held her close, and slowly stroked her hair. "Of course I will remember ye. I'd remember ye even after two hundred years," he risked a smile, and lifted her chin to make her look at him. "Lizzie?"

"See? You don't believe a word I'm saying," she said with a small smile, placing her hand on his cheek.

"Lizzie-"

"Oh, ye're back already!"

Jack and Elizabeth jumped at the sudden voice, and looked to their side. Bill Turner walked through the door, and smiled at them (or at least it seemed that he smiled at _them_...).

"Thought ye'd stay in the Faithful Bride for more than one drink," he winked, and took off his shirt, hanging it on the hook near the door. "Awfully hot today," he said, brushing the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand.

Jack glanced at Elizabeth, and then back at Bill in stupefaction. He did not know whether he was more startled by the fact that his friend was ignoring Elizabeth completely, or by the fact that he was unceremoniously shedding his clothes in front of her.

"Oi, oi," Jack let go of Elizabeth, and walked over to Bill, waving his hand at him. "What are ye doin'?" he asked in a low voice, giving Bill an indignant look. "Ye could at least say 'ello' to the guest, even if ye don't remember who she is," he snapped, turning to Elizabeth with a smile.

Elizabeth smiled at Bill uncertainly.

Bill gave up untying his boots, straightened up, looked around, and then looked at Jack. "What guest?" he asked, perplexed.

Jack blinked, shifted his gaze to Elizabeth, and then back to Bill. "What do ye mean what guest?" he asked irritatedly, wondering whether Bill Turner suddenly became an insulting kind of person. He never treated anybody disrespectfully, but people do change, after all... Although perhaps not as rapidly.

Jack walked toward Elizabeth, and wrapped his arm around her waist. "My guest. My Lizzie. Ye do remember Lizzie, don't ye?"

Bill stared at Jack with the most confused look on his face. He took a careful look at Jack's outstretched arm that looked as if he was holding somebody...

Elizabeth blinked, noticing Bill's gaze sweeping over her blankly.

"Aye..." muttered Bill, scratching his forehead. "I do remember Lizzie," he said, looking at Jack worriedly. "Jack," he started after a pause, taking a step toward him. "It's been two years, maybe-"

"I don't rightly know what happened to yer manners, mate," interrupted him Jack, pulling Elizabeth closer. "I think-"

"Jack," Elizabeth leaned toward him, her eyes fixed on Bill Turner, whose eyes did not even flicker to her when she spoke. "Jack, I think he can't see me," said Elizabeth cautiously, looking at Bill who was looking at Jack with growing trepidation.

"What?!" exclaimed Jack incredulously. "Luv, I assure ye he may be ill-mannered, but he's not blind," said Jack with a smile, turning his eyes to Bill who was watching him with a look of compassion in his eyes. Jack glanced at Elizabeth, and then back at Bill, his smile fading. "Is he?" he whispered, subconsciously tightening his embrace to make sure that Elizabeth was really there.

"Jack..." started Bill, but Jack cut him off.

"Ye _do_ see Lizzie, right?" asked Jack, squinting.

Elizabeth looked at Bill, who glanced right and left, and then looked at Jack with a sad expression on his face.

"Jack, there is no Lizzie. She isn't here. She disappeared two years ago," said Bill slowly, looking into Jack's eyes to make sure that he was listening to him carefully.

Jack stared at him with mixture of annoyance and dismay. He would have found the situation amusing, if it was not for the fact that... it was not amusing.

"Ye don't see Lizzie," whispered Jack, beginning to understand... that he really did not understand any bloody thing.

Bill shook his head. Jack wiggled his fingers in the air nervously for a moment, and then forced a smile. "Never mind!" he said dismissively with pretended cheerfulness, and quickly headed for the door leading to a room, pulling Elizabeth with him.

He slammed the door shut behind them, and pinned Elizabeth against the wall. "I'm all ears," he whispered, looking at her expectantly, placing his hands on either side of her head.

"You shouldn't see me either," she said quietly. "I don't know how it is possible that you do," she slid her hands into his dreadlocks, and smiled faintly.

"Why shouldn't I see you? Who are you?" he asked, his eyes roaming all over her face, glimpses of fear and curiosity flashing in his eyes.

Elizabeth smiled brokenly, brushing her thumbs across his lips. "I'm Lizzie. Your Lizzie," she kissed him. "Lizzie Sparrow," she kissed him again, and he groaned.

"I can't lose ye again," he said with sincere desperation in his voice. "I can't."

"Jack," she trailed feathery-light kisses along his jawline. "You won't lose me. I'm yours. But-"

He caught her wrist, pulling her hand away from his face. "Are ye a ghost? A figment of my imagination? No, because two years ago Bill saw ye too. I don't know why he can't see ye now, but he did see ye then. So ye're not a ghost. What are ye, then? A dream? A witch? Love personified?"

She laughed, and then burst into tears. "You will understand one day," she said, resting her head on his shoulder, and closing her eyes. "But not today. Today I can't tell you anything." She raised her head, and looked him deeply in the eyes. He looked at her intently with grim seriousness on his face. She looked away. "I don't know what would happen if I told you everything. Maybe something awful, or maybe nothing... I just... don't know," she trailed several kisses across his cheek. "But I know that I love you, and one day we'll be together if you'll still have me-"

"Lizzie-"

"Shhh," she kissed him, and drew back to look at him, and he watched in wonder as she smiled while the tears kept running down her face. "I did so many things wrong... I made so many wrong choices... I put in danger so many people," she bit her lip, and rested her forehead against his. "But now I have a chance to make it right, to make everything right. You just have to promise me you'll remember this moment, Jack," she cupped his face, and he stared at her wide-eyed, struck by the sudden realization that if among them was anybody insane, it was not her, and somehow the realization that she was not – that she _never_ was – insane made his blood run cold. He always felt the necessity to protect her, and somehow protecting her was easier when she seemed a bit removed from the reality, a bit helpless, a bit dependant on him. But now all of a sudden she seemed to be a completely different person that made _him_ feel helpless, because with increasing feeling of dread he realized that he could not protect her as well as he wanted to, because he could not even grasp what it was exactly that she needed protection from.

"I will remember," he whispered, looking at her intensely, and she smiled palely in response.

"I would've done anything to save you. Twenty years is not that high a price," she said quietly, enjoying the feeling of his skin under her hands, enjoying the look in his eyes, the sight of his forehead as he wrinkled it in confusion, the sight of his eyebrows knitted in thought, his lips curling up into a small pout.

"What price, Liz-" And then, a certain moment on the island came rushing back to him, and he suddenly remembered her mentioning the price back then. "You did something for me," he whispered incredulously, and swallowed. "You did something for me!?" he shouted almost accusingly, and Elizabeth put her hand over his mouth to silence him. "It's my fault," he mumbled against her hand, a look of horror creeping on his face, even though he could not imagine neither what it was she had done, why she had done it, nor what the price she had to pay was. "What have you done?" he tore her hand off his mouth, and grabbed her by the shoulders. "What have ye done, Lizzie?"

She took a deep breath, and looked at him intensely, trying to carve the image of him in her heart, in her memory, as it was likely she would not see him – him at this point of his life – ever again. And she knew she had to go if she did not want to complicate the matters even more.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, and pressed her lips to his ear, tears streaming down her face. "I married you," she whispered hotly with a feverish grin, kissed him fiercely on the mouth, and before he had the time to protest snatched herself out of his embrace, opened the door, and ran out of the room, and the house as fast as she could.

* * *

Jack raised his pistol, pressed it to his chest, and cocked it.

It felt strange to be doing such a thing, and the pistol felt slick under his hand. It was neither fear nor nervousness, but rather the lack of certainty that it would work. He did not have much to depend on – only the words of a widely defined heartless man who had quite a few reasons to mislead him, personal pointless satisfaction being only one of them.

As he felt the trigger under his finger, some memories all of a sudden sprung to his mind, and he pondered them for a moment in puzzlement. It was one of those memories again... the memories which he had thought dreams, but they turned out to be real. His memories of the past – and of Elizabeth in the past with him. Strangely, this memory was not evolving around the time of the mutiny, but later... Two years later... they met again?... His eyes flew wide open. Was Elizabeth in the past again? Why?

"_She accompanies her husband and takes lives away from people."_

He shuddered inwardly, and then remembered the man with the silver pistol.

"_He is not my husband."_

The words were slowly coming back to him, the conversation playing itself in his mind's eye.

"_I married you."_

He smiled, and grinned, and almost forgot about the pistol aimed at his heart. She was there, she was talking to him, to _him!_

Jack frowned. Where did she run? Where-

He closed his eyes with a grimace. There was no time to lose. And no other way. So-

A pistol was knocked out of his hand, and the bullet broke through the window, the pieces of glass falling to the floor with a loud, jingling noise. He fell to the ground, but quickly jumped to his feet. "What the-" he started, but stopped in mid-sentence, slightly taken aback by the identity of his unfortunate rescuer. "What do ye think ye're doing?!"

Will grabbed him by the shirt, and slammed him against the wall. "What do _you_ think you're doing? First you ruined her life, and now you want to live her alone? After all that she gave up for you? What is that? Your pride doesn't allow you to be captured by former allies? Or are you afraid of another brand-"

"Get the hell away from me!" shouted Jack, pushing Will away as soon as he finally understood what his line of reasoning was. "Ye don't understand," he said, annoyed, picking up his pistol from the floor.

"I understand very well!" exclaimed Will, clenching his fists. "You're a coward, and-"

"Ah, ah, ah." The tip of Jack's sword landed between Will's eyes. "Ye'll do better if ye'll keep yer mouth shut," he said drawing his sword away. "What did ye do that for anyway?!" he asked, shooting Will a suspicious look.

Will averted his eyes, and held the cell's door open. "I didn't bring you your _effects _so you could kill yourself. That I hate you doesn't necessarily mean that I have to watch you commit suicide, does it?" he snapped irritatingly, absently kicking the bars with his foot.

Jack looked at him for a moment in silence. Then he sheathed his sword, and cocked his pistol once again. Will's eyes darted to him.

"I wasn't committing no suicide," said Jack in a low voice.

"Then what-"

"I was only trying to kill myself."

Will's eyes widened when Jack put the pistol against his heart once again. "Have you lost your mind altogether?!" He walked up to him, and tried to snatch the pistol out of his hand.

"No." Catching Will off guard Jack kicked his shin, and took a few steps backwards. "I made a deal with Jones. He'll carry me to where Elizabeth is, and then carry us back, and if after our return I will give him back his heart within three days, he won't insist on me staying dead. Savvy?"

Will stared at Jack in disbelief. "You're not serious! You don't really think he'll keep to any agreements with you! And how do you even know he has the power to bring you back from the dead?!"

"The Captain of the _Flying Dutchman_ may occasionally spare the lives of those who died at sea. But thank ye for yer concern."

"Occasionally?!" Will gave him an incredulous look. "And what makes you believe he will choose you of all people for his occasional act of mercy?"

"I'm Captain Jack Sparrow," said Jack with a bright smile. Will looked at him sternly. Jack frowned. "But I'm having a thought here," said Jack, and ducked under Will's arm when he tried to take his weapon away from him once again. "If ye so insist on bein' so _atonementally_ helpful, ye may keep a watchful eye on our tentacled friend's troublesome thump-thump," said Jack, narrowing his eyes in a smile, and aiming the pistol at his chest. "That's the only way," he said in a suddenly deadly serious voice, and pulled the trigger.

Will's eyes flew wide open. "Jack!"

Jack fell to the floor with a dull thud a moment before a series of footsteps was heard on the stairs, and Beckett and his guards alarmed by the earlier breaking of the window and pistol shots entered the brig.

* * *

Elizabeth ran into the tavern, breathless from running, wiping the tears from her face with the back of her hand. She did think she would be strong enough to do that, to leave Jack and run back here. But it was the only reasonable thing to do, the only way. Death would find her, sooner or later, anyway, and she could not risk the deal she had made, she could not risk Jack losing his life _again _due to her cowardice.

She walked across the room toward where she remembered they had sat before, but the table was empty. Slowly, she walked away from the table, scanning the room, when suddenly somebody caught her arm, and spun her around.

"You broke our agreement," said the man, and only then she noticed a commotion in the further part of the tavern.

"I didn't," she said firmly, thrusting up her chin, and wondering if the man had taken the life of somebody in the tavern already, or if it was still before her...

"You did," his colorless eyes bore into hers with greater than usual intensity. "You ran away."

"I did not run away!" Elizabeth tried to snatch her arm out of his grasp, but he only tightened his grip in response. "If you haven't noticed I'm right here!"

"And you didn't take a life away – again," he pulled her closer toward him. "So I have to take back one of the lives you saved, unfortunately," he said in a blank voice.

He wondered if she could see the lie in his eyes. He did not know why, but he felt as if she could see _more _than any other woman he had met before. There was something striking in her gaze, some kind of light, of cleverness that seemed so strange, so foreign, and yet so transfixing.

It was a fortunate event that the man she loved was about to die, but it could be made even better if he would be able to make her blame herself for his death. It would make everything easier. _That _would make her heart die. At an instant.

Elizabeth froze, but then smiled triumphantly. "I just saw them both-" But then she trailed off. She was in the past. She could not know what was happening in the present. "You can't," she said in a firm, quiet voice, looking him straight in the eye.

He sneered faintly. "You will have a chance to see for yourself," he said in a low voice using his grip on her arm to tug her out of the tavern.


	45. Chapter 45

A/N: _**Thank you so much for all the fantastic reviews! **_**:)**

Disclaimer: I don't own PotC.

**Chapter 45**

Her thoughts were tearing her apart as she was falling, the darkness enveloping her like unbearably warm, heavy blanket she had no strength to push away. She closed her eyes, and let the blackness carry her while her eyes were fixed on the inner light of her memories and her feelings.

He was not dead. He could not be dead. She did not know what was the trick Death was about to play, but she was certain it was only a trick, and nothing else. It could not be anything else. It was not possible. Even if only for the fact that with Jack dead there was no reason for her to keep to the agreement...

She vaguely remembered that there was still Will's father to think of, but she pushed the thought away.

It was just not possible. Jack was well, and whatever the illusion she was about to face, she would not believe otherwise. He was well and alive. He could not- he _was not_ dead.

The blackness dispersed into the blinding light, and when she opened her eyes she needed a moment to adjust her eyesight to the sunlight. The sunlight. She smiled faintly at the memory of a sunny day aboard the _Black Pearl_. The marr-i-age proposal. She smiled again, but then her smile froze on her face.

Shivering from sudden cold, with her blood pounding in her ears, and her head hurting like never before, she slowly shook her head, and took a step backwards. "This is not true," she whispered shakily, unable to tear her eyes away from Jack who lay on the brig's floor in the pool of blood.

A silver pistol suddenly appeared in front of Elizabeth's face, blocking the view. "You will do this yourself," whispered the man in a cold voice.

Elizabeth pushed the pistol away, and stared at Jack, almost failing to notice Will kneeling beside him. Suddenly the entire world came down to only Jack's head turned to the side, and his closed eyes. But it could not be true, it just could not be true! How could it happen? It simply could not happen. It was not happening!...

Without thinking, she fell on her knees, and tried to cup Jack's face, but her hands were going through his skin without touching it. She moaned in desperation trying to touch him, but she could not feel anything under her fingertips, she could not check if his heart was beating, if he was breathing.

"Jack," she whispered, her invisible hands wandering blindly all over him. "Jack!" she screamed, and glanced at Will, noticing him at last. The look of astonishment and dismay on his face made her heart race. It was not a figment of her imagination. She feverishly tried to understand what happened, what was happening. She darted her eyes back to Jack who moved slightly, and she gasped, but then the silver pistol appeared before her once again. "He won't die," she said angrily, knocking the pistol out of the man's hand, and not looking where it landed. "He won't," she whispered, hopelessly trying to cup his face, frustrated that she could not feel his skin under her hands. "Jack, Jack!"

Suddenly two strong arms grabbed her from behind, and shoved her against the cell's bars. "It's all your fault," whispered the man, looking at her intensely.

Elizabeth shuddered, and kept shaking her head, her eyes traveling between Death and Jack. "No, this is not true," she whispered, her lips barely moving. "It's an illusion, a trick, I know it!" she tried to get to Jack again, but was held in place, despite her efforts.

"No, it isn't," said the man very distinctly in a quiet voice, bringing his face very close to hers. "He's going to die, and it doesn't matter if it will be me or you who will take his life away from him. But I want you to do it, so you'll always remember what you have done." His colorless eyes looked at her piercingly, and there was suddenly something so vicious in his tone that it made her head hurt, and she started trembling uncontrollably.

He was not _the man in a grey coat_. He was _Death. _And although she had known it before, only now the realization hit her with full force.

"You're lying," she hissed, eyes wide from dismay, her vision becoming blurred because of the tears gathering in her eyes. "This is a lie, a lie! He isn't dying. I know it, I know it! I-"

She gasped, when Death's grip on her shoulders tightened.

"He is. And by your doing too," he said coolly, and she opened her mouth to retort when all the colors of the rainbow suddenly flashed in his eyes, and she moaned, bursting into tears.

"No!!" she pushed him away as hard as she could, and fell to the ground next to Jack. "No, this is not, this is- lie- I don't- it isn't- Jack! Jack, open your eyes, please! Jack-" she shouted, sobbing, and choking on the words, swallowing her tears. "Jack! Jack!! What did they do!? What did they do to you!? Who did it?!" her trembling hands kept sliding in the air above his skin. She went very still for a moment, and then jumped to her feet. "Blackguard!!" she screamed, her voice breaking as she started to hit the man with her fists. But even though she could feel his body under her blows, even though he was tangible to her, he did not seem to feel any of her angry punches. He stood motionlessly, looking at her with infuriating disinterest, as if he looked at her through the glass – as if she was a strange, raging animal that could do him no harm.

"He'll only suffer longer if you don't do this now," he said calmly, extending his hand with the silver pistol toward her.

She hit him once again with a helpless scream, bringing her hands to her head. It was not really happening, it could not be happening. It was only a nightmare she needed to wake up from. Wake up, wake up, wake up!...

The man yanked her arm abruptly, and pushed the pistol into her hand. She struggled in his grasp, and tried to kick him, tried to throw the pistol away, but then he closed one of his hands around her throat, and squeezed it so tight that her eyes widened, and she lost her breath for a moment completely. He let go of her, and she coughed, drawing hasty breaths, and he used this moment of distraction to ensure that she held the pistol in her hand. Within a second he raised her hand, and pushed her finger over the trigger...

"_It seems that is the way things are. I keep saving your life, and you keep taking mine."_

And then, from somewhere behind her Will's disbelieving voice flew to her: "He is dead."

The bullet burst out, and silver dust slowly fell over Jack.

Elizabeth's breath caught, and she fainted.

* * *

"What happened he-" started Beckett in a mildly interested, slightly annoyed tone of voice, but then stopped in mid-sentence, his eyes focusing on Jack's motionless body, and Will kneeling beside him on the floor.

"Can somebody help me?!" Will glanced over his shoulder, trying to lift Jack from the floor, and Beckett had to turn around with disgust at the sight of the pool of blood left behind.

He motioned for the guards to move, and drew a handkerchief out of his pocket, shaking it, and covering his nostrils and mouth with it. "How did that happen?" he asked staring at the wall with the mixture of shock, anger and irritation.

"He is dead," whispered Will disbelievingly, staggering to his feet, putting his head in his hands, and staring at Jack with wide eyes. What had he done? Why? Was it really the only way to save Elizabeth? How could it be? And even if it was... the chances that Jones would make an honest deal with Jack, or with anybody else for that matter were so slim... And yet he had risked it, he had risked his life, he had given his life away for her.

_How much does he have to love her if he's done that..._

The guards looked between Will and Beckett uncertainly.

"Sir? What should we-" started one of the guards, but Will cut him off.

"We have to bury him at sea," he said in a hollow voice, his eyes fixed on Jack, half-expecting him to move his fingers or twitch his nose – to make any indication that he was only pretending to be dead.

"I am the one giving orders here, Mr. Turner," said Beckett irritatingly, taking the handkerchief away from his face, and looking at it blankly. He tried to understand how could that happen? How could he do this? Why did he do this? How could he so _thoughtlessly_ thwart his revenge? "He'll be hanged. As a warning for the others," he added as an afterthought.

"Hanged?" Will rose to his feet, trying to collect his thoughts, not really knowing what to do, apart from the fact that Jack had to be picked up by the _Flying Dutchman_, or the cause was lost altogether. "And how would it look? If you hanged a dead man? That would be a farse, not a warning," he said sternly, trying to keep his voice from shaking.

Beckett slowly turned around, narrowed his eyes at him, and then glanced at Jack. "So you propose to throw him into the sea," he said with a small sneer, studying Will's face intently. "Gone without a trace? That is bound to trigger an even greater number of the already exceedingly large collection of those ridiculous legends."

"Just on the contrary," countered Will quickly, succeeding in keeping his voice blank. Beckett raised his eyebrows. "He will drown along with all the legends," he said, holding Beckett's gaze for a moment unblinkingly, hoping that it would add strength to his lamely justified proposition.

The guards looked at Beckett expectantly.

"Yes," said Beckett slowly after a moment of consideration. "Take him above. And throw him into the sea." Will sighed inwardly with relief. "But not before signalling their ships to watch," he added, sneering faintly, and turning toward the stairs.

* * *

"This is getting more insane with every minute," said James under his breath, furrowing his brows, and looking sternly between the collection of worthless trinkets held by Ragetti in Barbossa's hat and Tia Dalma bound with the ropes to the main mast of the ship.

It had actually taken Barbossa more time than he had intended to spend on it to keep James from untying the ropes, and trying to mollify his outrage at such a treatment of a woman. Telling him that the woman was in fact a goddess, surprisingly or not, had not helped much either, and only after all Pirate Lords joined Barbossa in his attempts to explain the situation to James, and after a several dozens of more ships appearing on the horizon, he finally gave up his efforts to free Tia Dalma, or Calypso as the pirates had called her.

Governor Swann glanced at James with a grim expression on his face. Elizabeth was missing, Jack Sparrow was taken captive, William Turner was on the enemy's (he snorted humorlessly) side, and he was here, standing on the deck of some ship among _pirates_ who were about to free a goddess from her human form... The Governor closed his eyes to shake the feeling of dread and madness off his mind.

"What do we do with it now?" asked Pintel impatiently after a moment of silence, eyeing suspiciously the Pieces of Eight, and swatting Ragetti's hand away when he made a gesture as if he wanted to take his eye out of the hat.

Barbossa shot him a dark look, and Pintel took a step back with an apologetic smile.

"Now," Barbossa's menacing grimace gradually turned into a grin, "we'll open the gates to hell," he snatched the hat from Ragetti's shaking hands, "and to redemption," he said in a low voice and grimaced when a series of words shouted from the crow's nest interrupted the ceremony. Annoyed, he followed the direction indicated by the crew members, and his eyes, like everybody else's were suddenly drawn to the strangest sight...

* * *

"_This is an absolutely unacceptable lack of discipline, ye do realize it, aye?"_

_She rolled over onto her back, and grinned. "I do realize it, Captain Sparrow," she said cheerfully, slowly locking her hands around his neck, and pushing his head down until their lips met. "And I'm still not getting out of this bed today. I'm tired," she said with a pout._

"_I thought ye said ye wanted to be a part of the crew? No special privileges and all that?" he raised his eyebrows, looking down at her expectantly, amusement glimmering in his eyes, even though he managed yet not to smile._

_Elizabeth bit her lower lip, and giggled. "Well, that was before I realized you thought I really meant it." _

_He smiled at last, and brushed his lips across hers, keeping his eyes fixed on her. "Bluffer," he breathed, bringing his hand to her face, and running his fingers across her cheek._

"_Pirate," she whispered with a cautious smile which widened when he returned it._

"_That's the best weapon, luv. But ye have to keep in mind never take it too far..."_

"Jack!!" Elizabeth woke up with a scream, somewhere between the humming lines of her peaceful dream the realization caught her like a claw made of ice, a cloud of suffocating, cold mist encompassing her and squeezing, squeezing until she could not breath.

Gasping for air, overwhelmed by dread, she threw herself forward, jumped off the bed, and ran without thinking across the room. She pulled the door opened and rushed across the dark corridor not caring where she was going, and yet knowing exactly-

"_One moment I want to toss ye 'round the room, slam ye against the wall, an' strangle ye with me own hands... Next moment I want to fall down on my knees, an' kiss yer feet."_

She opened the door at the end of the passage, a pale light from the crack underneath casting a shadow of grim light over her bare feet.

"_I see you made your choice," she said after a pause remembering his words. Jack looked up, catching a hint of amusement in her voice. _

"_I can still strangle you afterwards," he whispered with the trace of a mischievous smile flickering across his face, slowly raising one of her feet to his lips, his eyes never leaving hers. _

Elizabeth gritted her teeth and moaned under her breath, trying to block her thoughts, her beautiful, painful memories, and her latest mem-

No, they were not memories. _That _had not happened. It could not have... he couldn't have...

She pressed the knob, and stepped into the room, not really knowing where her certainty that she would find the man there came from.

"You've woken up, I see." He spoke as soon as she entered, and she stopped near the doorway, her eyes immediately discerning his silhouette in the darkened room.

* * *

Will stood by the rail of the _Endeavor_ watching Jack's body disappearing below the water surface and slowly receding from view.

Such an odd sight... He could not quite place his emotions at the moment. Perhaps he just felt guilty... Was it all his fault, then? Was him taking the _Pearl_ the reason for this? It did not seem so, and yet he felt as if he caused all those events to happen... even though he did not want any of it to happen. Everything he had hoped for had fallen apart before he had even had the time to see the upcoming disaster. And he had just... got lost. His Elizabeth... And Jack Sparrow. _Captain_, he thought humorlessly remembering how Elizabeth had said the word when Beckett had interrupted their wedding. Something about the way she had said it... It had struck him back then already...

They were merely reluctant acquaintances... and then all of a sudden she had gone and married _him_.

He took a deep breath, turning away from the rail. It was not the time to think about that. The man whom he had thought not capable of any higher feelings just killed himself for her. Relying only on Jones' word that it could be undone. Even- Well. _Especially _Jack Sparrow would not be as stupid as to believe his promises, would he?

"Mr. Turner." Beckett's voice shook Will out of his reverie. _Where is the heart? I have to find the heart_, he thought absently, torn between anger and jealousy and... compassion? Sense of guilt?

...Or did he just love her still that much, that he would even help the man he hated simply because she loved him?... that much...

* * *

Elizabeth thrust up her chin, her anger - to her surprise - turning into despair, but she tried hard not to show it, tried hard to hold on to her anger, because it was the only emotion she should feel at the moment, really: she should be angry at him for trying to trick her, trying to make her believe that- "What happened?" she asked evenly with a hint of annoyance in her voice.

The man tilted his head to the side, and took a step toward her. "You don't remember?" he asked, slowly raising his eyebrows.

Elizabeth blinked, but her facial expression did not change. "What really happened?" she asked in an icy cold voice, steadily returning his seemingly bored gaze. "I know that-" she started before she realized that it would have been wiser to wait for his answer, but now it was too late. "I know that he is alive," she said firmly. "I didn't break the agreement. I'm still here."

"You saved two lives," he said plainly, taking a few more steps into her direction until he stopped very close to her. "Did you not?"

"He is alive!" shouted Elizabeth, clenching her fists, and looking him in the eyes as intensely as it was possible. "Do not think that you can trick me," she added in a low, menacing voice, the expression on her face hardening.

He looked at her, surprised by his eyes being suddenly drawn to her mouth, to the hard line of her lips pressed together in anger.

Elizabeth took a hasty step backwards. "What was that trick for?" she asked irritatedly, not knowing what to think of the strangely slow way in which his eyes lifted from her mouth to meet her eyes again.

"What trick?" he asked taking, after a moment of hesitation, another step toward her, thinking how beautiful she looked in the dim light of their surroundings.

She looked beautiful; she _was_ beautiful. They were all beautiful. Each of them was beautiful, each carried her own legend, her own code of looks and gestures, and he always liked watching those differences, those different colors reminding him of _life_, of how alive the world he had left was. There was a purpose for them, and the purpose was most important, and yet every time he was coming close to achieving his goal, when they were weak and broken, uncaring of what would happen to them, resigned and empty, and when their eyes held light no more he suddenly felt no desire to prolong their stay by his side... he suddenly did not want them near, even if it meant distancing his chance at immortalized death yet again. And so he always, sooner or later, let them go, leaving them in some desolate places around the world, around the time, making sure that they would die soon enough... Except for one.

Her name... _Calypso_. She had thrown it at him like a curse, and yet he had not even blinked when she was glaring at him with wild fury, shouting words that he could not understand. She was a goddess, she had said. She was not to be tamed, she was not to be ruled, she was not to be _there_. He had sneered at her, and she had leaped at him with fists and nails and teeth, and for a moment he had considered letting her go, but then... perhaps it was exactly that raging fire that could make a soul worth acquiring?...

So he had not let her go. And she had screamed and cursed when he looked at her, and cried when she had thought he was not watching her. _"My love, my love, what will happen to you now?" _He remembered the words she had chanted every night, moaning them into the darkness.

He had waited. He had made her take many lives away. She had seemed unimpressed, and it had disappointed him, somehow.

And then the strangest thing had happened. One day, she was gone. She could not have escaped, he had known it, and yet she was gone from his quarters.

He had searched for her, and he had found her, bound by the force that had somehow overruled his confinement, only to put her behind different bars – human bars, the bars of a human form. The goddess had been captured – and she was goddess no more. But she was still his bride, even though he could not have kept her in a prison other than her mind. Her heart and mind belonged to him, but her body was trapped in the world of the living by the force stronger than him. Still, he was unwilling to let her go, and so she had offered him a deal, he would have freed her from their union if she had found him a new bride, a woman so deeply in love she would travel this and the other world to save the one she loved.

"I want to see him. I want to know that he is alright," Elizabeth continued, despite the absent look in the man's eyes.

His eyes regarded her face with sudden intensity. "But he is not," he said blankly.

Elizabeth took a sharp intake of breath. "I know he is alive-"

"He is dead," he cut in, his voice cold and cruel, and strangely loud, annoyed.

Elizabeth stared at him for a moment, her own screams swirling in her head, the memories, his body, his face, blood everywhere- She shut her eyes, and when she opened them again they were glittering with tears she was not even aware were there. "He is not," she whispered in an involuntarily quivering voice, angry and determined - to disbelieve.

_And so beautiful._

The man narrowed his eyes at her. What kind of soul would a child of a mother who did not feel anything have? Perhaps it did not matter, perhaps it was him who stood in the way, perhaps he wanted too much... He wanted them to agree, to express their desire to join him in the darkness of death, but it was only possible if their hearts were dead, when they did not care about anything anymore, and if they did not care... how could they agree? How could they _express _anything? They could not. Perhaps he was wrong all along. Perhaps waiting for their hearts to die was a mistake. Perhaps it was better to have them while their hearts were still on fire?

* * *

He heard the water in his ears, swirling and pulsating as if it was a living entity, whispering secrets into his heart, tales of the seas, alluring and dangerous, violet strings of fortune bounding destinies of those who chose the sea over everything else. He could not see the ocean around him, he could only feel the strength of the waves crashing against him, light of the sun quickly turning into the greenish mist of silence that was swallowing him deeper and deeper into the blue abyss of his beloved sea that suddenly seemed so unknown and uncaring. How could it let him drown like that? How could it not keep him on the surface, help him step an the dry deck, lend him a hand-

A _hand_?...

Jack squeezed whatever it was that he suddenly felt in his palm, and screamed, jumping to his feet, and cursing under his breath while examining the burn that the creature left on his hand. He was about to squash his unwilling oppressor with his boot, when he suddenly noticed the deck under his feet, and no water around him. He blinked, and cautiously lifted his gaze, only to meet the narrowed eyes of Davy Jones.

"Oh," he said with a quick smile, taking a step backwards, and shaking his burned hand a little.

"Find whom you're looking for and I will carry you back," said Davy Jones in a low voice. "And after that you will have three days for bringing the chest back to me."

"Ye like number three, mate, don't ye?" asked Jack with an artificial smile, but instead of an answer there came a strong gust of wind that swept him off his feet and threw him back into the blue-green waters of the dark ocean.

* * *

"He is dead," repeated the man, glancing at the door, as if considering closing it.

Elizabeth quickly stepped back, and stopped right in the doorway, watching him warily. Something in his behaviour alarmed her, but she could not quite place the reason for the sudden feeling of fear that overwhelmed her. Maybe it was just this conversation, maybe it was just the disinterested way in which he kept saying that Jack was-

"He is not!" said Elizabeth distinctly, and narrowed her eyes at him when he snorted.

"You know he is," he said calmly. "You saw him die, and you..." he reached out to touch her face, but she flinched, and stepped out of the room and into the corridor. He withdrew his hand, his eyes studying her face with sudden interest. "_You_ took his life away," he said in a low voice.

"I did not!" said Elizabeth automatically, the image of Jack in the pool of blood springing to her mind like a long-forgotten nightmare. She blinked, and tears started rolling down her cheeks, hot against her cold skin. "He is not dead," she said after a pause, and he felt a twinge of some indescribable emotion at the unexpected meekness of her voice. "He is not," she shook her head, staring at him unblinkingly.

He looked away for a moment to shake off the strange sensation. "He is dead," he said, regaining his composure, and quickly grabbing her by her shoulders and pulling her toward him. "He is gone, dead, and you know it!" he said sharply, and yet not as sharply as he thought he should say it. Where was that strange feeling coming from?

"Stop it!" she pushed him away with such force that he let go of her, and stepped backwards.

"You won't escape from here," he said in a dark whisper, as if reading her thoughts when she took a look around her.

"If he is- if he _would _be dead I would break the agreement, and then you would _have to _let me go," she said, glaring at him, and taking a step backwards. "But I know he is alive," she added after a pause more to herself than to him. "Why are you trying to make me believe that he is not? What do you want from me?" she asked suspiciously, narrowing her eyes at him. There was something strange in the way he treated her, something strange in his cruel insistence on her taking the lives away. All of a sudden the vagueness of his motifs appeared curiously lucid to her. Why did he want her to do that anyway? If they were traveling together... Why could he not do it himself?

He looked at her with his colorless eyes that seemed deprived of any emotion, as if all the emotions drained from them, from him, leaving the shell of a person that left behind everything that could make him human, and yet... and yet the way in which he looked at her was not indifferent, as if he was always _thinking_ – and thinking intensely – about something while looking at her.

"I need a soul," he said all of a sudden when she already thought he would not answer her at all.

"Beg pardon?" Elizabeth wrinkled her forehead in confusion.

"I want to stay here forever," he said, keeping his voice steady despite the strange, inexplicable trace of hesitation that flickered across his mind. But he effortlessly pushed the thought away. "And to do that, I need to acquire a pure soul."

Elizabeth listened to him with growing bafflement. She stared at him for a moment sternly, but then her face brightened a bit, and a ghost of an amused smile flitted across her lips. "Oh, I'm sorry to tell you this, then, but my soul is far from pure," she said, crossing her arms over her chest.

To her discontentment he smiled a little, and started walking toward her. Elizabeth straitened up, ready to step backwards at any moment.

"It's not your soul I need, Elizabeth-"

"Mrs. Sparrow," she cut in stiffly, in a cold voice, despite the inner exhilaration she always felt while saying the words out loud. "Whose soul do you need, then?" she asked mockingly.

He scanned her face in this irritating manner in which he usually did that and said: "The soul of my child." Elizabeth raised her eyebrows. "Of _our_ child," he added in a low voice.

She wanted to laugh, but something in his cold gaze stopped her.

* * *

"Bloody _hell_," muttered Jack irritatedly climbing up a dark mountain that stood in the middle of the sable ocean he has been swimming across, his feet sliding down the slick, uneven surface. The burn on his palm was not helping either, and he also had a _strange_ impression that the burn was not accidental, and that once he and Elizabeth would get out of here it would _somehow_ transform into another _black spot_ or something equally ugly. "At least now-" he twitched his nose when a small rock came off the cliff, and fell bumping into his forehead on its way down. "At least now when I'll rescue ye, luv, ye won't be able," he grasped the edge of the cliff, and pulled himself upwards, "to kill me," he squinted, and flung his leg over the edge, "'cause I'm already dead," he smirked, but then his facial expression turned serious when the part of the rock he was clinging to started to come off. Quickly, he pulled his other leg up, and threw himself flatly over the surface on the top of the cliff. After a deep breath, he staggered to his feet, and looked around the dark desert around him. The sky had a dirty, grey, strangely fluorescent color, and as far as his eyes reached, he could not see anything. _Where to now? _He thought, furrowing his brows, but then a complacent smile tugged on his lips, and he reached into his pocket, pulled out his compass, and snapped the lid open. "Ah," he said with a smile, and started walking, quickening his pace with each step taken.

* * *

"What kind of nonsense is this?" asked Elizabeth quietly, staring at the man with disbelief.

He did not answer, only kept looking at her with infuriating calmness.

"What does it have to do with the deal I made?" asked Elizabeth sharply. "What-"

"We may..." he interrupted her, stepping closer, and she wanted to step back, but he grasped her hand, closing his hand around her wrist almost painfully, "modify our agreement, if you wish," he said looking her deeply in the eyes. Elizabeth tried to pull her hand away, but to no avail.

"Modify?" she snapped angrily.

"I won't keep you here for twenty years," he started, and she stilled her movements, looking at him with wary interest in her eyes. "I will let you go sooner," he tried to tug her closer, but she stiffened, preventing him from pulling her nearer. "I will let you go as soon as..." she cringed, her eyes darting to his hand holding her wrist and his thumb that suddenly started stroking her skin there. "As soon as you give me the soul I need."

She looked at him blankly for a moment, her face pale in the dimly lit corridor, her eyes glittering - with tears or anger, he could not tell. And then, all of a sudden, she laughed, and for some reason her laughter sent a shiver down his spine.

"Do not laugh at me," he hissed menacingly, pulling her roughly toward him, and she stopped laughing, but looked at him with such cold condescension that he froze.

She sneered briefly, and leaned closer, her eyes alighted with _both_ anger and tears, he noticed now. "Never," she whispered, and leaned back. "You will never have any part of me. Be it my soul, my heart, or a strand of my hair. You will never have _anything _that belongs to me. Do you understand?" She winced when he tightened his grip on her forearms enough to leave bruises.

"I see _you _don't understand," he said slowly. "As long as you're here, _all _of you belongs to me."

"Really?" she snorted, and then stomped her foot over his so firmly that he let go of her, even if only because of being caught off guard by the gesture that did not cause him any real pain.

Elizabeth swirled around and ran away without waiting for his reaction. It was pointless to run, of course, and the realization reverberated in her mind as she tried to think of a way out of the predicament she was in, which seemed now even grimmer than before. She ran into the room she always woke up in since she was here, and slammed the door behind her without looking if the man was following her.

She took a few steps backwards away from the door, staring at it as if she expected it to open again at any moment. Or perhaps it did not even need to open again... He could walk _through_ the door, so it really did not matter if she closed it and locked it or not...

She hugged herself, and bit her lip, shaking and crying, silent tears rolling down her cheeks. What was she going to do? What was she going to do now? Would he- Could he- How was she going to defend herself? And what happened to Jack? What really happened to him? He could not- She squeezed her eyes shut, trapping the tears under her eyelids. Her memory must be deceiving her... It must have been an illusion... It must have-

Her eyes snapped open, and she wanted to scream, but a hand covered her mouth so swiftly that she did not make any sound, suddenly feeling somebody grabbing her from behind, and trapping her hands so she could not use them to push the attacker away. She felt a wave of cold panic wash over her, and she writhed furiously, trying to free herself, her head spinning, more tears welling up in her eyes at the sudden realization of her own helplessness. She tossed her head right and left, and managed to open her mouth if only slightly. She was about to bite one of the fingers of her attacker's hand, when her eyes noticed a glimpse of light reflected in one of his rings... She stopped moving, entranced by the incredulous impression that turned into certainty as soon as his warm, gritty lips touched her ear.

"That's much better, luv. Screaming isn't something we'd like to be doing while trying to escape all stealthily and what not, aye?" he whispered softly into her ear, slowly sliding his hand off her mouth, and Elizabeth held her breath, and spun around, eyes wide from astonishment.

She stared at him for a moment, unable to utter a word, and only after he cupped her cheek with his hand, she allowed herself a small, cautious, feverish smile, whispering in a quivering voice the dearest word in her entire world:

"Jack!..."


	46. Chapter 46

A/N: _**Thank you so much for all the amazing reviews! **_**:)**

Disclaimer: Jack, Elizabeth, etc. belong to Disney.

**Chapter 46**

"Luv, if ye will keep doin' this, I won't recognize me own face in the mirror," whispered Jack with an amused smile hovering over his lips when Elizabeth for a hundredth time ran her hands across his face, stroking his skin, cupping his cheeks, brushing her thumbs over his lips and his chin with such wonder in her eyes that he had to remind himself about the grim circumstances they were in, in order not to sweep her in his arms and relive their wedding night right then and there. "All the dirt will come off," he said with a small pout.

"It's really you," whispered Elizabeth, blinking back the tears and grinning.

"These are not the tears of disappointment, are they?" asked Jack, sliding his hands into her hair, and bringing her face closer to his.

Elizabeth mutely shook her head, smiling through her tears, and closing her eyes when his lips touched hers ever so gently. He kissed her very slowly, his hands cupping her face, relishing the feeling of her soft skin under his withered palms – _again_.

Suddenly, Elizabeth broke the kiss. "Our watchword," she said in a low voice, looking him deeply in the eyes, reluctantly suspicious.

Jack blinked. "Watchword?" he echoed with a slightly puzzled look on his face, returning Elizabeth's intent gaze with some confusion. But then his face brightened, and he smirked, inching his lips closer to hers. "I promise to be at yer _feet_ as soon as we get out of here, luv, however now-"

She smiled brightly, and pressed her lips to his. "It's you," she whispered, kissing his lips repeatedly.

"What else do ye want me to do to finally believe it, Lizzie-darling?" he asked, returning her kisses with growing intensity. He had not even known how much he really missed her until he felt her body pressing against his, her closeness so shockingly comforting that he was grateful for being so busy thinking about coming to her rescue, that he had not had the time to acknowledge his loss in its entirety before, for he would have certainly gone insane.

"How did you get here?" asked Elizabeth breathlessly, sneaking her hands around his neck, smoothing his shirt on his shoulders, threading her fingers through his dreadlocks, and, to his further amusement, doing a series of other similar, small, nervous gestures.

"Luv, I'd think ye should know whom ye married," he replied with a cocky grin, pressing his lips to hers despite the voice of reason in his head that was telling him they should really start leaving this place immediately.

She stifled a chuckle, her smile looking slightly misplaced among the tears which were still flowing from her eyes. "But how did you know, how-"

"Ah," he interrupted her, the expression on his face turning serious. "That's another story. And ye will certainly have some explaining to do, milady, as far as me disinformation is concerned," he whispered rather threateningly, narrowing his eyes at her.

Elizabeth bit her lip, and smiled shyly, leaning her forehead against his. "I couldn't tell you," she whispered, his kiss brushing the last word off her lips.

"You could and you should," he said firmly, pulling her closer with his hand splayed on her back.

"I didn't want to... confuse you-"

He pulled back abruptly. "Confuse me?!" he widened his eyes at her. "Ye didn't tell me that ye sold yer soul, yer life for me, 'cause ye didn't want to... _confuse _me?!" he stared at her incredulously.

"Or put you in danger," she added quietly, dropping her gaze to the floor. But then her eyes brightened, and she looked up. "I knew it was a lie, a trick!" Jack wrinkled his forehead. "I knew you're alive," she said smilingly, cupping his face.

Jack's mouth twitched, but he forced a smile, and then pulled her close, burying his face in her hair with a frown. Not telling her the truth was not lying, was it? Once they would escape from here, they would have plenty of time to talk about it. Well, they would have at least three days to talk about it...

"I thought I did it again," whispered Elizabeth almost inaudibly, brushing her lips against Jack's neck.

"Did what?" he asked, slowly rubbing her back, and kissing her hair, while simultaneously repeating himself that they should be going, but somehow he just could not tear himself away from her.

"Killed you," she said in a quivering voice. "I thought I killed you again, Jack" she whispered, pressing soft, tear-stained kisses to his neck. "And you said once that you couldn't forgive me, because you knew I would do it again," she said in a hollow voice, suddenly remembering his words from one of their arguments right after her awakening on the _Black Pearl_.

"Lizzie," he took her face in his hands, and looked her deeply in the eyes. "This is hardly-"

"You never said you forgave me," she interrupted him in a low voice, tears glistening in her eyes when she looked up at him with hopeful interest.

Jack groaned inwardly wondering why she had to discuss all of that right now. "Lizzie," he said with half-hearted warning in his voice, and kissed her lips, hoping that she would not ask-

"Did you forgive me?" she _did _ask, and Jack gritted his teeth, and looked at her almost annoyed.

Why did she have to ask about it right now? Right now, when he could not give her the true answer? Neither was there enough time to explain to her that they were supposed to be enemies... he would really have lots of explaining to do once they escaped. And so would she.

"Jack?" Elizabeth blinked, her smile slightly paling, the worry in her voice making his heart clench.

He rolled his eyes, and kissed her as hard as he could, pushing her backwards until her back hit the wall. She gasped when he let her go at last, and looked up at him with hazy eyes.

"I married you, didn't I?" he asked, holding her face in his hands, his thumbs brushing the corners of her mouth. Elizabeth nodded, still trying to catch her breath after the kiss. "I love you, don't I?" he inquired in such an irritated tone that hardly matched the meaning of his words, but Elizabeth nodded again nonetheless. "I came here, right?" She nodded again with a small pout. "So... there," he said, smiling complacently, and even though Elizabeth did not seem particularly happy with that conclusion, he kissed her hand, and pulled her toward the door.

She kept her eyes fixed on him, more entranced by his presence with every passing moment. Was she dreaming? Or was he really here? Did he really come for her? Found her? Beyond the world's end, even.

"Jack, we can't go there!" she said, suddenly noticing that he reached for the doorknob.

"Shhh," he put his finger across his lips, and then pressed it to hers. "That's the way out, luv. There is a certain door we have to go through," he said in a low voice, leaning down, and kissing her briefly on the cheek. She smiled, and he thought that he had never seen anybody more beautiful than she – right now, with her hair in disarray, and a smile on her tear-stained face – a smile meant for him alone. "I will get us out of this, Lizzie," he whispered, and opened the door-

Elizabeth gasped.

Jack squinted. "Oh."

* * *

"Was it..." Governor Swann broke the heavy silence that fell on the deck and everywhere around them, it seemed. He glanced at the people around him, but nobody appeared to be able to answer him, whatever question he was about to ask, so he turned back to the rail, and stared out at the ocean, at the place where the body thrown from aboard the _Endeavor_ had just disappeared.

James narrowed his eyes, as after the first moment of confusion and a fairly grim feeling of cold astonishment something occurred to him, brightening his thoughts, if only a little. He had spent enough time with Beckett to find it rather unlikely that he would kill Jack Sparrow, and throw him into the ocean a moment before the battle. It would have been decidedly too unimpressive, too... hasty, and perhaps even ridiculous, in a sense, for a man like Beckett, a man who apparently enjoyed watching other people's suffering; that kind of a sudden murder – and of none other than Jack Sparrow – seemed improbable. Unless it was accidental... He snorted humorlessly under his breath. _As if Sparrow would allow anything accidental to happen to him._

"Why did we stop?" James turned around from the rail, fixing Barbossa with his gaze.

Everybody's eyes shifted to James who straightened up, and raised his eyebrows. Even the Governor seemed a bit startled by the blank firmness of his voice. Only Tia Dalma's lips curled up into a sly smile.

"Let us proceed. They won't wait for us with their military actions, Captain Barbossa," James gestured with all calmness to Barbossa's hat. "Unless you're planning on joining Captain Sparrow on the other side of the water surface," he added in a serious tone, although there was an unsettling glimpse of faint amusement in his eyes.

A series of murmurs were heard from the crew, but nobody spoke out loud.

Barbossa narrowed his eyes at James, a small, irritated smile flickering across his lips. "I see apparently there's more to what happened than meets the eye," he said in a low, dark voice.

James smiled briefly. "At your age, Captain, I would expect you to know that there is more than meets the eye to everything," he said, holding Barbossa's gaze for a moment.

"Very well," snapped Barbossa, and turned around toward Tia Dalma.

James exchanged a look with the Governor who still seemed rather puzzled, and definitely distressed by the event. Who would rescue Elizabeth if-

"As much as I am unable to explain what has just happened," started James in a low voice so only the Governor could hear him, "I-" he trailed off with a frown, surprised by the words that had come to his mind.

"You have faith that it will turn out well," finished Governor Swann cautiously, looking at him with a pale grimace of a smile on his face. For some reason the memory of his ridiculous 'encounter' with a... hand? a bone? aboard the _Dauntless_ sprung to his mind, and he thought that that one event alone should have changed his way of looking at everything back then already, and yet it had not... He had still believed at that point that everything could have gone back to normal. But apparently it couldn't.

James clasped his hands behind his back, and looked at the deck, smiling briefly. "Of all the untrustworthy people I've met, he seems to be the most trustworthy, yes," he said reluctantly, looking back at the Governor. "If this can be of any consolation to us," he added glumly, and then his and the Governor's attention was drawn back to Barbossa's smoldering hat, and Tia Dalma whose eyes alighted so brightly and so suddenly, that everybody in the near vicinity to her took at least a few steps backwards.

* * *

"There is no way out of here," said the man standing on the other side of the doorway, and looking calmly between Elizabeth and Jack.

"We shall see," said Jack, taking a step forward to walk out of the room, but the man did not move, still blocking the exit.

"Jack," Elizabeth tugged on his shirtsleeve, trying to make him step away from the man, the joy and strength drawn from Jack's appearance suddenly replaced by the fear for his life and safety.

The man smiled palely. "Do listen to my wife. Step away," he said with his colorless eyes fixed on Jack.

Jack's hand subconsciously traveled to his pistol. "You might want to revise that last statement of yours."

"Step away?" The man raised his eyebrows.

Jack sneered. "Not quite," he said, pulling out his pistol. Apparently, there was no use trying to shoot somebody who was already... _death_, but seeing that he was _dead _already, it could not hurt to at least pretend to be threatening.

To Jack's surprise, the pistol seemed to make a certain impression on the man, and Jack smirked inwardly, only after a moment realizing that Elizabeth was staring at him curiously as well. He glanced at her suddenly pale face, and then he noticed...

When did his pistol change its color?...

* * *

The wind came out of nowhere, heavy, dark clouds drifting from all directions and cumulating above them, overshadowing the sun, the light, the world; turning everything around them into the opaque mist.

"It ain't look to me she likes us very much," observed Pintel sceptically, leaning toward Ragetti, and wincing at the sight of the churning sea, waves growing higher and higher, rocking the ship from side to side.

Tia Dalma's hair also grew longer and longer, flowing into the wind, into the sky, and into the sea, pushing the men overboard, breaking everything that stood in the way.

"Excellent work," observed James sarcastically, and Barbossa tore his mesmerized gaze away from Calypso to shoot him an annoyed look. "Let's leave this madness and go back to the _Black Pearl_," he said motioning for the terrified Governor to move toward the rail."We have a war to fight and Captain Barbossa's magical tricks seem to be as successful as his cursed crew trying to overtake the _Dauntless_," he added to Barbossa's infuriation, loud enough for him to hear. "Gentlemen!" he called in a suddenly loud voice turning around, catching everybody's attention despite the increasing noise the darkness, and Calypso's raging, raspy voice calling unintelligible words into the fury of the storm. "Ladies," he added, glancing at Mistress Ching who narrowed her eyes at him, and he began to wonder if his manner did not become too placid, as it strangely reminded him of- He quickly dismissed the thought. "Return to your ships. It's an order," he added in a steely voice that ran through the gathering like a thunder, and either because of the force of his voice alone, or because a real thunder flashed across the darkness at that very moment illuminating the murky waters for a split of a second, the Pirate Lords scurried off, and away, moving from the _Silver Frenzy_ to their respective ships.

James waited until they were all gone, and then left the _Silver Frenzy_, taking Governor Swann with him.

Once they boarded the ship he made sure to escort the Governor below decks, and from the lack of a better place for him to stay, he directed him to the Captain's Quarters.

* * *

"Now at least you know that I was speaking the truth," said the man, lingering on the last word, his gaze sending a wave of cold over Elizabeth's heart.

She subconsciously wrapped her fingers around Jack's forearm, as if she was looking for proofs to counter the man's words.

"Don't listen to him, 'Lizbeth," said Jack dismissively, holding the man's darkly sarcastic gaze.

"He is dead," said the man coolly, glancing at Elizabeth who shifted her eyes to Jack, the heart-wrenching images flashing across her mind once again.

"Jack?" she whispered almost inaudibly, and in such a desperate voice, that he could not find it in himself not to deny it, especially that it was not a real lie... He was only dead... temporarily. Unless of course he would not manage to deliver the chest to Davy Jones... or unless Davy Jones would not keep to the terms of their agreement... or unless- _Oh, bugger_.

"I feel quite alive, thank you very much," said Jack in the form of a general announcement, and then flipped his silver pistol up in the air, caught it by the barrel, and hit the man on the head, hoping to knock him unconscious...

...unless dead people- or _death _people could not be knocked unconscious, he thought watching the man returning his gaze as before, not seeming to be affected by the attack at all. _Well, it can't hurt to try a more traditional approach, can it?_

He flipped the pistol back to its usual position... and fired.

Elizabeth gasped, widening her eyes at the man who blinked and squinted, the silver dust sprinkling over him from above. Jack wrinkled his forehead in puzzlement, wondering how the bullet directed at the man's chest could just fly upwards, and stop exactly above his head. But he quickly decided that it was not the time for the in-depth analyses of the firearms that happened to be in his possession. He grabbed Elizabeth's hand, and ran past the man, pushing him to aside. Even if the shot had not affected him, his vision must have at least been a bit blurred by the silver dust.

"Jack..." Elizabeth whispered breathlessly, glancing over her shoulder to see- "Jack!" she screamed, and he turned around just in time to see the silver bullet flying into his direction. Elizabeth pushed him against the wall, but the bullet, to Elizabeth's dismay, and his astonishment followed him. "No!" shouted Elizabeth, feeling as if that nightmare in which Jack had died was happening again, so she clung to Jack trying to pull him away from where the dust was falling, but wherever he went, the bullet followed, miniature, silver snowflakes along with it.

"Lizzie, it's alright," said Jack reassuringly, observing the bullet rather curiously, and trying to stop her from shoving him once again against one of the corridor's wall in an hopeless attempt to move him from the bullet's _dust _line. He glanced at the man, who stood a few feet a way, the silver pistol still in his hand, and a look of annoyance on his face, and it crossed Jack's mind that the man looked better with a blank expression on his face. Emotions did not suit him at all.

Suddenly, Jack was pushed to the ground by an exceptionally strong gust of wind that seemed to come out of nowhere, white clouds of swirling, thick air enveloping him and Elizabeth who fell to the ground with him. Instinctively, he quickly pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her, and nestling her face in his chest. She clung to him, and he closed his eyes as the wind grew stronger, until he could only hear the swishing noise reverberating around them.

* * *

The ship jolted, sending Governor Swann to the floor. With a gasp, he staggered to his feet, taking a look out of the cabin's large windows.

The sea was impatient. High, dark waves were crashing into all directions, as if all the laws of nature were abandoned for the sake of the tempest to take possession of the world. The Governor stared into the sudden night that fell over the ocean with wide eyes wondering how it was all going to end, if there was any hope, any way out of it, and whether he would ever see his daughter again.

A murky wave hit the side of the ship, and the Governor took a step away from the windows, walking across the cabin in search of a less unsettling place to wait for the end of the battle, for the end of the storm, for the end... Was there going to be an end? Was he going to see it? Or would they all end up at the bottom of the sea, the stories of their lives drowned in the wilderness of the dark blue, greenish ocean, grey and black clouds overshadowing the rays of light keeping them from brightening the last moments on Earth of all the people who would happen to be there at that moment of time. How many of them were here unwillingly? How many were only the pawns in the grim game with unstated rules, for if the rules were known nobody would have played it; or at least then there would have been no bravery in playing it...

He smiled humorlessly, a pale grimace flickering across his face, as he slowly made his way to the desk and after a moment of hesitation sat down in a chair which seemed to be the most dependable piece of furniture in the cabin. Somehow he felt reluctant to sit on the ground - as ridiculous and unimportant as it perhaps was, he just did not want to die while sitting on the floor, hidden somewhere in the corner of the cabin on a pirate ship.

In the Captain's quarters – he recalled what James Norrington had said.

So it was _his _cabin.

He looked at the desk, at the last map that was splayed over it, while many others were already scattered around the cabin floor due to the ships' jerky motions.

Was Elizabeth going to live here?, he thought suddenly startled by the idea that had not occurred to him before. Was she willing to _live on a ship_? On _this_ ship? In here? He raised his eyes and quickly scanned the cabin, the grand table, armoires, bookshelves...

Bookshelves. He squinted curiously, surprised that the books did not fall down to the floor yet. They must have been secured in some way...

He waited until the effects of another wave tossing the ship to the side subsided, and carefully rose to his feet to examine the bookshelves, but as soon as he took a few steps forward, unexpectedly, the ship shifted violently once again, pushing him against the wall. He grasped the edge of the nearby armoire, clinging to it as much as it was possible, while the ship was tossed again, with the unbelievable force, and Governor Swann watched in dismay as the desk at which he had sat just a moment ago, hit hard against the floor, the drawer jumping out of it, flying across the room, bumping against the opposite wall and turning upside down, sending hundreds of pieces of paper flying up in the air.

The Governor took a deep breath, grateful that the drawer had not flown in his direction, because it would have surely been the death of him. He glanced out of the windows which were located on the other side of the cabin, but then his eyes were drawn to the documents that made the floor look completely white, covering almost the entire middle space of the cabin.

Several pages slid toward his feet, and he swept his gaze over them half-absently, but then darted his eyes back to them, and blinked.

These were not documents. They were drawings.

He bent down, and picked up one of the drawings, his eyes widening in surprise. The drawing was a portrait of Elizabeth, elbows resting on the rail of a ship, hair fluttering in the wind, a small smirk on her face.

Curious, he lifted another picture from the floor. Elizabeth in a wedding dress. But not the one she had really had, but in some... imaginary one, perhaps? He had to admit the skill with which the drawings were made was quite impressive. He had ordered portraits of Elizabeth many times for different occasions, and he was almost always dissatisfied with the result. Either she had not looked herself on those portraits at all, or her eyes looked indifferent, absent, or the painter simply could not catch that sparkle that would make the portrait have a character, an edge that would make it look what it really was – a vivid portrait of a living person. At last he had come to believe he had just expected too much. Perhaps it was because he had wanted his daughter's portraits to be perfect, stunning, beautiful like she, and somehow it was impossible to render her like this in a motionless image.

He reached for another drawing. Her hair tied to the side - she had never worn her hair like this – a lacy ribbon keeping the locks in place, her cheek resting in the palm of her hand.

So it was possible. It was possible to draw perfectly. To draw _her _perfectly.

He glanced from above the drawings in his hands over at the paper-covered floor, wondering if really all of those papers were the drawings of Elizabeth. _That would have been... madness..._

He collected a few more drawings from the floor, each of them different, and yet each of them truly depicting _her_.

_...or love..._

He slowly scanned the floor.

_...or both._

* * *

"What is this?"

The voice, half-bored, half-annoyed was the first audible, coherent sound that suddenly replaced the exhaustive whisper of the suffocating wind, causing Jack's eyes to snap open. He felt a twinge of panic at the thought of Elizabeth, but to his relief he found her still in his arms, her eyes fluttering open.

She put her hand to her head, and blinked. "What happened?" she whispered, but Jack's answer was cut off by the impatient repetition of the former question.

"What is the meaning of this?"

Elizabeth turned around in Jack's arms, subconsciously noticing the sudden warmth and comfort that she had missed not even having the opportunity to fully get used to it. Waking up like this every day, his arms draped over her keeping her close to him in her sleep...

"He is a thief, Your Majesty; trying to steal my bride."

The voice reached Elizabeth's ears, and she recognized it even before her vision cleared enough to see the man.

"Is this the reason for wasting the death powder? I do not see how these two phenomena relate," snapped Chronos, storming to his feet, and shifting his eyes from his herald to Jack and Elizabeth who sat on the floor staring up at him in bafflement. "And you? What is your explanation?" he asked, looking at Jack in annoyance.

Jack glanced at Elizabeth, the man in the grey coat's who kept his eyes fixed on him as if hoping to turn him into the ashes with his gaze alone, and finally at Chronos. He only vaguely understood the question, but where would be the fun of life if everything was clear, eh?

"Well," Jack cleared his throat, staggering to his feet, and helping Elizabeth to stand up as well. "We were actually viciously attacked by this," he pointed with his finger and a grimace of disgust on his face to the man, "individual."

Elizabeth laced her hand through Jack's arm, for the first time finding it rather convenient not to be forced to fight for everything herself. It felt strangely sweet to feel protected, to feel not alone.

Chronos furrowed his brows, and looked Jack up and down as if trying to figure out the thoughts behind his words. "My question was," he said after a pause, "why is _your _explanation for wasting the death powder?" he asked sternly.

_Death powder? That... dust? _Jack squinted, thinking that it was perhaps not the best thing to say out loud. He glanced right and left just to make sure it was him whom the angry stranger was addressing. He once had had a crew member aboard the _Pearl _who always looked at his interlocutor's chest firmly believing that he was looking in the people's eyes.

"I'm very sorry about that," said Jack cautiously. "But, frankly speaking, _he_ started," he added, shooting the man a glare.

"How is it that you shot first, then?" asked Chronos after another prolonged moment of silence, his eyes boring into Jack's.

Jack's eyes slightly widened at that surprisingly correct accusation. "I shot first, but he started... the argument, and by starting the argument he'd given me the reason to shoot, which I unarguably wouldn't have felt the necessity of doing, if his argumentation in that argument wouldn't have made me shoot," he said resolutely, wrapping his arm around Elizabeth, and pulling her to him protectively, just in case.

Chronos raised his white eyebrows more in simple surprise than in confusion. "I see," he said slowly, causing his herald to warily dart his colorless eyes to him. "So what was the argument about?" he asked, the annoyance almost gone from his voice.

Jack smiled, satisfied with the turn the conversation was taking. Apparently, this person, whoever he was, had some authority over Death, so all it would take was to make him clearly see who had been wronged in this situation. "My wife," he said distinctly, "was kidnapped, and brought here against her will-"

"Jack, I think-" Elizabeth whispered, trying to interrupt him, but he continued.

"And against her better judgement. I came to take her back, and he wouldn't let me. That's all, really. Couldn't be more simple, could it?" asked Jack complacently.

A small, slightly ironic smile flitted across Chronos' face. "A peculiar way of saving your wife you've chosen," he said, looking at Jack intently. Jack's nose twitched, and he tightened his embrace around Elizabeth. "A one-way way, so to speak," he added, glancing at Elizabeth.

"She came here on her own accord," the man joined the discussion, coming closer. "We made a deal. You know about it," he said with a small bow of his head addressed to Chronos.

"Ah yes," Chronos smiled. "Ten years in the Maelstrom of Time, wasn't it?"

Elizabeth was about to nod sadly, but then stopped herself, and blinked. "Ten?"

The man glanced at her, but then dropped his gaze to the floor, to hide the irritation which was adding a strange glow to his colorless gaze.

"As far as I remember, yes" said Chronos. "You wanted to save two people? Bring two people back to life?"

"Yes," said Elizabeth in a hollow whisper, wrinkling her forehead.

"But I was told one of them came back to life by himself, and so from the twenty years in the Maelstrom of Time you were to stay there only for ten years."

Elizabeth stared at him, stupefied. "Who came back to life by himself?" she asked slowly, hesitantly, feeling all the blood rush to her head.

Chronos glanced at his herald who still did not look up, and then he closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again, his gaze was strangely softened. "Unfortunately, it seems that this is no longer true..."

Puzzled, Elizabeth followed his haze which rested on Jack, who glanced at her out of the corner of his eye rather uncomfortably. "Oh God," she whispered after a long moment of cold silence, paling. "Oh God, what have you done? What have you done, Jack?" she grabbed his shoulders, and looked at him desperately. "This is not possible, this is not true, it didn't really happen, it didn't happen, tell me you're alright, Jack," she talked so fast that half of the words were getting lost among the tears that welled up in her eyes, and among the tears in her voice. "Jack," she cupped his unsmiling face in her hands. "You're alive, you're not dead. Tell me you're not dead, Jack," she asked, trying to blink back the tears, looking at him hopefully, pleadingly, frustratingly, as if it could make him give her the answer she wanted to hear. "Jack," she smiled through her tears, stroking the sides of his face with her fingertips. "Tell me you're not dead, tell me, Jack."

He took a deep breath, and gently took her hands off his face, kissing her palms, first one and then the other. "Everything will be alright, Lizzie. I'm here only temporarily-"

Chronos' laughter cut him off. Jack shot him an annoyed look.

"Temporarily," Chronos shook his head. "That's very interesting. And how this is possible, if you care to explain? Unless you mean that you are Death only temporarily, which may as well be true, but then again I'm at loss as to why would you need to have a bride?"

Both Jack and Elizabeth stared at him in bewilderment, trying to comprehend his words.

"I am what?" asked Jack uncertainly, deciding to ask about the strangest element in what Chronos had said.

"I _am_ his bride!" exclaimed Elizabeth indignantly. "I'm his wife."

"She is _my_ bride," cut in the Chronos' herald in a steely voice, his colorless piercing into Elizabeth.

Chronos sighed. "I'm not sure I'm at all interested in this discussion... as long as it doesn't interrupt the flow of the time, of course," he added as an afterthought, tilting his head to the side, and squinting. "Oh, and speaking of which," he raised his finger, as if suddenly remembering something. "You mentioned you made the deal with this girl," he said, turning to the man who shifted his eyes from Elizabeth to him.

"Yes," said the man rather quietly, his face once again becoming perfectly unreadable.

"Hm," Chronos glanced at Jack and Elizabeth who stood looking at him, and holding each other's hands. "That's strange because you see... There is no trace of any deal in the Book. Did you agree to the deal?" he asked, turning to Elizabeth. "Did you say yes?"

Elizabeth was about to nod truthfully, but something stopped her. She suddenly realized that she did not remember everything that clearly... She remembered striking the deal, on the island, with Jack and Will's father watching her strange encounter without even realizing it... She remembered the terms... remembered the price... remembered that she had _intended _to say yes, but then the next thing she remembered was that she was back on the _Black Pearl_. Someone or something brought her back... She had never really known what it was that had brought her back... She had just... come back.

Could that strange black glass globe that Jack had said he had broken and on which she had hurt her feet had something to do with it? It had never occurred to her before, but now... She wrinkled her forehead, trying to concentrate on the moment when she had made a deal. What had she said? Had she said _anything_? She had thought that it was that man that had sent her back after she had made the deal, but perhaps he had nothing to do with it... What if it was not him? What if she was just... brought back? All of a sudden? Unexpectedly? Accidentally, exactly at the moment of making the deal?

"Did you agree to the deal?" Chronos repeated his question very patiently, and Jack had an impression that despite the fact the he kept repeating the question, he had already known the answer.

"I don't... remember," said Elizabeth quietly, staring into the distance with unseeing eyes.

Chronos took a step toward her, and narrowed his eyes at her, as if waiting for her final answer.

Jack squeezed Elizabeth hand gently, and she looked at him, at the small, encouraging smile hovering over his lips.

She dropped her gaze to the floor, once again recalling everything that had happened, everything she remembered... And the more she was thinking about it, the more certain she was becoming...

Slowly, she lifted her gaze, meeting Chronos' bright, expectant gaze.

"I didn't," she whispered at last, swallowing. "I didn't agree. Something happened, and... I suddenly came back... to my life, to my time... I didn't manage to say yes. I didn't say it," she took a deep breath, and bit her lip. "I didn't..."


	47. Chapter 47

A/N: _**Thank you so much for all the wonderful reviews! **_**:)**

Disclaimer: I don't own Jack, Elizabeth, etc.

**Chapter 47**

"Well, if this is how the situation looks like," said Chronos with a thoughtful sigh. "You are free to go. I see no reason for you to stay here if you don't want to."

Jack pulled Elizabeth closer, trying to limit his joy to a smile. He knew better than to rejoice too early.

Elizabeth stared at Chronos unable to utter a word, torn between the startling, alleviating effect of his words, and the cold trepidation caused by the fact that Jack-

"So we can just leave this place?" she asked, sliding her hand into Jack's, and intertwining her fingers with his. He squeezed her hand in response just strong enough to let her feel that he was there, with her, but she squeezed his hand very hard in return – and did not let go. Out of the corner of her eye she saw him looking at her, amusement in his eyes and her name on his lips, even though he did not say it.

"This is-" started the man, his coat slashing the air as he suddenly leaped forward, but Chronos stopped him with a mere wave of his hand, not even sparing him a glance as he kept his eyes fixed on Elizabeth.

"_You_ are free to go," said Chronos, and his voice was emotionless, except for a hint of sympathy in it which for some reason angered her.

"And what of... the man whose life was saved?" asked Elizabeth, her knuckles white from gripping Jack's hand. Even if he had woken up, there was still Bill Turner to think about. She owed Will that much.

"Well, if he decided to save that man's life without making the deal," Chronos glanced at his herald, and shrugged his shoulders with a brief smile. "This is none of my concern."

Elizabeth smiled faintly. "So we are free to go," she more stated than asked, and held her breath when Chronos' eyes flickered briefly to her and Jack's hands entwined together. She suddenly began to wonder who that man was, the question springing to her mind among her other tangled thoughts, and she was surprised that she had not actually questioned his identity before.

"You are alive, so you are free to go," he said calmly, silencing his herald, who was about to break into the conversation once again. "He, however," to Elizabeth's dismay, Chronos shifted his eyes to Jack, "is dead."

"Actually," Jack raised his hand, interrupting him. "I think we suffer here from a tad bit of misunderstanding," he said with a cautious, complacent smile.

Chronos arched an eyebrow. "Do we?"

Elizabeth glanced at Jack, hoping that his arguments were for once not exclusively rhetorical.

"Aye," Jack smiled. "I'd say _dead_ is a matter of perspective, really."

"Is it?" Chronos seemed amused, and Elizabeth did not know whether it was a good or bad sign at the moment. "And how does perspective affects the regrettable state of being dead, if you care to explain Mr..." he slowly waved his hand in an expectant gesture.

"Captain," corrected Jack resolutely. "Captain Jack Sparrow."

"Ah," Chronos, to Jack's disappointment displayed no indication of acknowledgement. "Captain Sparrow. Would you care to explain why you consider you being dead a subject to change?"

Elizabeth bit her lip, the mentioning of Jack's death burning her heart more than a piece of hot coal pressed to it would.

"Me being dead would be a fairly unlike subject to change, I agree. Luckily, it's not me being dead, but me being not dead that is a subject to change here," Jack narrowed his eyes in a smile, making a wavy motions with his free hand, as Elizabeth still did not let go of his other hand. "Or rather a subject to no change, seeing that I wouldn't necessarily wish to change it, being not dead appearing to me as decidedly more appealing than being dead, which, in fact, I had the misfortune to be, and didn't find it pleasurable enough to relive-, or... re_die _it, so to speak."

Elizabeth glanced at Chronos who listened to Jack with enviable patience.

"Oh so you _did _die before?" he cut into Jack's monologue in the most polite, genuinely interested tone. "That's extremely interesting."

Elizabeth could not quite decipher the glint in Chronos' eyes; could not guess if it was the sign of irony or amusement.

"Unusual," corrected Jack with a twitch of his nose. "More like unusual than interesting, really," he stated matter-of-factly.

"Yes, I can definitely see how it was unusual, seeing that it's, _in fact_, impossible," said Chronos in a slightly mocking tone.

"He just can't accept that he is dead, like all of them-" the herald cut in, but Chronos shot him a dark look, silencing him immediately.

Stiffening, Elizabeth pressed herself closer to Jack in some ridiculous hope that her closeness had the power to protect him. She glanced at Jack uncertainly, but to her surprise the question did not troubled him at all. On the contrary, a wide smile appeared on his face.

"Not probable," said Jack very distinctly.

"Not probable indeed," agreed Chronos, narrowing his eyes in a small, artificial smile.

"But possible," Jack smiled, and for some reason Elizabeth found it fit to smile as well, if only to make Jack's words seem more credible.

Chronos stared at them both for a moment in silence, and the way he looked at them reminded Elizabeth of the way people often looked at Jack, as if wondering if he was aware of or rather oblivious to how daft he and his words seemed.

"And if we were to get straight to the point, Captain Sparrow," said Chronos at last, breaking the silence.

Jack smiled enigmatically. "I bartered a passage here and I know of the way out. I wouldn't know about it, if I were here permanently, would I?" he asked in a serious voice, his eyes fixed on Chronos' unreadable face.

"Ah, but that's what is most interesting, you see," said Chronos, and Jack's brows furrowed. "If you came here and you know the way out of here it means that you are what I thought you are – _Death_. It's what happens when you die and your conscience is neither clear nor dark," he added, seeing the confusion on Elizabeth's face. Jack sighed inwardly, trying to at least appreciate the fact that Davy Jones was telling the truth. So far. "You became Death," continued Chronos. "And yet you're here telling me that you're not really dead. The only explanation I can find is that you are Death who is going to cheat and thanks to _some_ dark deal with _somebody_ who holds _some_ power in the afterworld, make a surreptitious escape, but of course I wouldn't dare to imply you're up to such a devious task, Captain Sparrow," concluded Chronos, his eyes fixed on Jack, who gave him a strained smile in response, and then to Elizabeth's complete astonishment said:

"As I said, it wouldn't be the first time Captain Jack Sparrow cheated death."

"Jack," whispered Elizabeth through her gritted teeth.

"But I'm not Death, am I?" Chronos smiled briefly, and Jack squinted at the sudden realization that he had failed to ascertain whom he was actually speaking to.

"So who are you?"

Jack 's eyes darted to Elizabeth, who all of a sudden asked the question. Chronos smiled, whether at her straightforwardness, or at the prospect of introducing himself, Jack was not sure.

"I'm your past," he said after a pause, in a low voice. "Your present, and your future."

"Quite a bit of territory to worry about," observed Jack with a small smirk, which was quickly replaced by a pout when Elizabeth dug her nails into his palm.

"I'm Time," said Chronos, lowering his voice even more, and slightly leaning toward them.

They blinked almost simultaneously.

"Oh," said Jack with a polite smile of acknowledgement. "This is a fine title. Very telling. Self-explanatory. And a short one at that. Easy to pronounce, easy to remember-"

Sensing that he was probably going to go on and on, Elizabeth dug her nails in his hand once more.

Jack hissed. "We're honored... to make the acquaintance," he said with a grimace, making a mental note to make Elizabeth clip her nails.

Chronos snorted. "So you expect me to just let you go? After your wife tried to disrupt the flow of time and after you admitted the intention of deceiving me. I have to say I find it amusing," he said with a very unamused expression on his face, and Elizabeth suddenly remembered how Tia Dalma had warned her not to anger the god of Time. Had she meant _him_?

Jack smiled brightly. "I knew you had a tremendous sense of humor as soon as I saw you, mate-" he twitched his nose, "Time," he quickly corrected.

"I didn't try to disrupt the flow of time," Elizabeth broke in defensively. "I just," she took a deep breath, "went to say good-bye, and... somehow everything got out of control..."

"Out of control," Chronos repeated, shaking his head in mild annoyance. "Say good-bye to what, to whom?" he wrinkled his forehead, and Elizabeth's eyes widened slightly at the unnatural amount of wrinkles on his face, very deep and criss-crossing, suddenly visible when he allowed himself to change his composed facial expression.

"To Jack," she said quietly, subconsciously giving Jack's hand a nail-less squeeze. He smiled.

"Oh, yes, of course, let me guess. It was when he was dead for the..." Chronos waved his hand, and raised his eyebrows.

"For the first time," offered Jack helpfully. "Although," he squinted into the distance, and continued before Elizabeth could go on with her explanation. "If we would count the times I was _nearly _dead, or officially dead, or almost dead, it was not the first time, but rather-"

"So he was not really dead?" Elizabeth cut Jack off, looking at Chronos expectantly. "He was never dead? But when we found him in the Locker," she trailed off, her voice cracking at the very memory. "I saw him... I... He was... I mean..." she swallowed.

"Locker is not the land of the dead," said Chronos gently, studying her face with intent eyes. "It's the place of entrapment, between life and death, or you may say that it's a retrievable kind of death. He lost his will to live and that's why he seemed dead to you, but then, somehow, his will returned, as rarely as it happens," he shifted his eyes to Jack. "So you went to his past to see him for one last time, but instead you made his will to live so strong and so bright that it flashed across his life and across his destiny reaching as far as it could, reaching for him and bringing him back from the edge of life."

"I brought him back?" Elizabeth blinked back the tears, and the sound of her quivering voice made Jack's heart clench. On an impulse, he pulled her quickly into his arms and kissed the top of his head.

The herald's colorless eyes narrowed, his hands curling up into fists.

"Love, true love, creates the connection across the time and space, the connection that makes you always feel, hear, and see each other," Chronos watched them for a moment, when after trying to convince Jack that she was fine, Elizabeth at last gave up, and just buried her face into his chest and sobbed, all the memories coming back to her, all the moments of despair and joy and uncertainty returned.

Jack raised his hand to stroke Elizabeth's hair, and Chronos caught the sight of a small burn on the inside of Jack's hand.

"I see," he muttered to himself, too quietly for them to hear it. Davy Jones and his deals. It was really high time somebody else became the Captain of the _Flying Dutchman_, somebody who would take proper care of the dead, somebody who would abide the rules and fulfill his duties. "Well, actually... I think I could let you go," he said in half-bored tone of voice, causing the colorless eyes of his herald to widen.

"Your Majesty-" he muttered, but Chronos ignored him.

Elizabeth half-turned in Jack's arms.

"On what condition?" asked Jack with a small, knowing smile, keeping his arms tightly around her, his every gesture subject to the herald's scrutiny.

"The heart of Davy Jones," said Chronos after a pause.

* * *

Feeling utterly ridiculous, Will threw Jack's coat over his shoulders, and put Jack's hat on his head. There was just no other way of keeping an eye on those objects after Jack had been thrown into the ocean and the tempest around ensued (a strange coincidence in itself, he thought hesitantly). He did not exactly know why he felt responsible for Jack's coat and hat in the first place?! Perhaps it was just one of those anachronistic personality features of his that kept getting him in trouble. He snorted humorlessly under his breath, crossing the deck of the _Endeavor_, rain pouring down in torrents, blurring his vision, and causing him to almost lose his balance.

He wondered what was going on. Was it simply a storm? It seemed almost unnatural, the way in which it unfolded, the way in which it seemed to just fall from the sky and over the sea like an angry wave of darkness.

Was it Calypso's wrath?... He remembered the phrase, but just could not make out when he had heard it and from whom. So many forgotten memories were scattered around in his head. Forgotten memories, or... memories that he wished to forget.

"_He elected to stay behind to give us a chance."_

It was her voice then, it was then when it had suddenly crossed his mind that he did not know her at all. She did not blink, her face were composed and unreadable, or rather... refusing to be read. By him?... or by everybody? She had seemed so out of reach... And he remembered that somehow his thoughts back then had not drifted to the Kraken... _"He elected to stay behind to give us a chance." _To give them a chance? How many people she had included in that _them _when she had said it? Maybe it was even the last time when she had referred to him and herself as _them_...

He gripped the rail and looked across the murky sea, the silhouette of the _Black Pearl _half-hidden behind the high waves. Beckett locked himself in one of the cabins below, and Will wondered if it was the same cabin where the heart of Davy Jones was kept. He did not really know where the heart was. And there was nobody to ask. He would gladly just use the chaos of the storm to go back to the _Black Pearl_, but without the heart there was no point in trying to make an escape – and more importantly – the return.

Brushing the rain off his face he turned away from the rail, and with a determined look on his face headed below the deck.

* * *

"A very common object of desire, as of late," observed Jack with a cautious smile, narrowing his eyes at Chronos.

"Oh, I don't want it," Chronos smiled wryly. "But Jones caused more than one interruption in the flow of time, and it _just_ occurred to me that we could make valuable use of your unwilling presence here."

Elizabeth turned around to fully face Chronos. "The heart of Davy Jones is in the possession of East India Trading Company," she said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

"So you already know where it is?" Chronos raised his eyebrows.

"And if we do?" cut in Jack.

"If you know where it is, ensuring its fate shouldn't be difficult at all."

"Ensuring its fate?" Elizabeth wrinkled her forehead, seeking Jack's hand once again.

He suppressed a smile at her repeatable attempts to ensure _his_ closeness and safety, struggling not to close his eyes, as he was sure the dreams of her on the _Black Pearl_, hair blowing in the wind and her hands over his on the spokes would not let him concentrate on the current conversation.

"I can let you go," said Chronos, opening his arms in a generous gesture, "and in return you will make sure that the heart of Davy Jones will be stabbed by somebody who will not keep the souls of those who died at sea from crossing the border between life and death tempting them into the eternal servitude on the _Dutchman _instead."

"And who would that somebody be?" asked Elizabeth suspiciously.

Chronos shrugged his shoulders with an indifferent smile. "I don't care as long as this person would prove to be a better Captain of the _Flying Dutchman_."

"Agreed," said Jack all too happily for Elizabeth's liking. She shot Jack an irritated look.

"I think we should discuss that first," she whispered through her clenched teeth, leaning toward him.

"I just discussed it. With myself," replied Jack in a matching whisper, still smiling.

Elizabeth frowned. "By _we_ I meant _us_, not your conflicting spirits," she hissed.

"We'll have plenty of time for discussing _us_ when we get out of here, luv," he looked her straight in the eye and with such intensity that she shivered, and then shivered even more when his eyes flickered to her lips for a fraction of a second, only to promptly return to her eyes, a small, smug smile on his face.

She narrowed her eyes, biting back a retort, her mind traveling to the _Black Pearl_ that suddenly brought to her notions of home, and she took a sharp intake of breath thinking that they could come back there, that the nightmare she had thought was upon her for the next twenty years could be just... gone. It was decidedly more than a fairly tempting prospect.

But as much as she wished to escape from here, she did not want Jack to make any more deals, neither for his ship, nor for her.

"Jack..." she lightly shook her head with a hesitant look in her eyes, but he smiled at her reassuringly, and turned to Chronos.

"Agreed," he repeated.

Chronos smiled. "Very well. Be on your way, then."

"But Your Majesty-" the herald took a hasty step forward, and his sudden agility hit Elizabeth again as strangely _too _human. "They can't... just... leave. It can't- You can't-"

"I can't?" Chronos spun around, his voice turning cold and irritated at an instant.

The room went very still and quiet for a moment, as Death's colorless eyes pierced through Time with reluctant, hollow sense of defeat.

Elizabeth glanced at Jack, who surreptitiously pulled out his compass and snapped it open soundlessly. The needle spun and stopped. Jack looked up, and rolled his eyes meeting Elizabeth's amused gaze.

"Should we go this way?" asked Jack loudly, startling Elizabeth by his sudden breaking of the ominous silence.

Chronos shifted his eyes to them and for a moment Elizabeth feared that he might change his mind, or even start laughing at their naive belief that he had ever had any intention of letting them go. But fortunately neither of her grim scenarios proved to be true, for suddenly there came the wind, as strong but colder than before, obscuring their vision and sweeping them off their feet a moment after they managed to grasp each other's hands.

Through the haziness around them Elizabeth caught a glimpse of colorless gaze that seemed to follow her, attach itself to her, almost, and she closed her eyes and tightened her grip on Jack's hand to fight the unsettling impression that it was all not over yer; that it was not the end...

"She belonged to me," the herald's quiet, insistent voice resounded in the room when Jack and Elizabeth were gone and the wind subsided.

Chronos turned to him. "His hand was marked. He made a deal with Jones. To bring him back his heart, no doubt." Chronos squinted thoughtfully into the distance. "Should he fail, you shouldn't have any troubles claiming what you wish, for his life will be claimed by Jones." The man said nothing, his eyes grimly following Chronos who started to walk away. "His hand was marked red... He has three days. If before they're over he will not have the heart stabbed, but will choose to deliver it to Jones instead... you may take her from him."

"And if he will have somebody stab the heart within three days?" asked the herald, his eyes so dull and tired that they struck even Chronos as odd.

"They will live happily ever after," he said lightly, tilting his head to the side, studying his herald's face with some interest. "You know that if you would take somebody's life too early, against his destiny, it would destroy you," he added after a moment of silence.

The man's eyes shot to Chronos' face. "Everybody's hour of death comes when it is meant to come," he said firmly.

Chronos nodded, a glimpse of suspicion not completely gone from his eyes. "What is so special about her?" he asked, looking at the man intently. "Or are these only your eyes that make her look special?" The man seemed confused, even though his face remained calm. A pensive smile flitted across Chronos' face. "Curious..." he muttered to himself, slowly turning around, and walking away, leaving the man alone in the darkening room.

* * *

The door opened hastily, and Will took a step back, holding onto the door frame to keep himself from falling due to another sudden motion of the _Endeavor_.

"What is it?" Beckett looked at him, annoyed, straightening his wig with his hand in an impatient gesture.

Will stared at him, suddenly aware that in his valiant plan aimed at retrieving the heart, he forgot to prepare an explanation why would he want to speak with Beckett. And he _had to_ enter the cabin to check whether the heart was there.

"I was wondering," he started, trying to come up with something, _anything_, but his mind was so full of thoughts that he could not concentrate on anything specific.

"Yes-" The ship jerked, slamming Beckett against the wall. He grimaced, glaring at the wall irritatedly, as if the wall was responsible for him being slammed against it.

"_...what a man can do, and what a man can't do." _He did not know why all those _words of wisdom _were coming back to him now. They were not even helpful. What could he do? He was not good on telling lies, and right now all he needed was a good, strong lie. "I was..."

Unless... he did not need to lie at all.

"I want to go back to the _Black Pearl_. In this storm... I don't think Elizabeth is safe there," he said, and took a hasty step into the cabin.

Beckett's eyes flickered to his hat, and he wondered if he recognized Jack's tricorn. If he did, he chose not to comment on it. Neither did he comment on his storming inside, and Will turned around suddenly noticing how pale Beckett's face was. The man was clearly unused to the storms at sea. Or perhaps to the sea in general.

"I could see what's going on. They surely know more of this than we," he said, surprised by how smoothly the words were saying themselves.

Beckett looked at him warily, despite the exhaustion in his eyes. "Do you think it's anything else, but weather, Mr. Turner," he asked blankly with a hint of condescension in his voice, as if the weather was an inferior phenomenon, not worth to be talked about.

Will shifted his eyes back to him, while out of the corner of his eye still continuing his surreptitious scrutiny of the room for any signs of the chest.

"I would say Jones has to know something of this as well," Will narrowed his eyes, wondering where that sudden idea came from, and uncertain where he was hoping it would lead him.

"Jones?" Beckett's expression turned grimly serious. "He will pay for his betrayal, if this is what it is," he said darkly.

Will blinked, quickly grasping the chance. "If the heart is on the _Flying Dutchman _he may do what he wants."

Beckett sneered faintly. "It's not there," he said, glancing out of the window when a dark wave crashed against the glass. "Neither is it here," he added, looking back to Will who clenched his teeth to keep the emotions off his face. For a moment he had a strange impression that the man could read his thoughts...

"Where is it, then?" Will risked a question, hoping to sound only casually interested in the answer.

"Somewhere where Jones cannot reach it," replied Beckett complacently.

Will wrinkled his forehead, and then inhaled sharply when the understanding dawned on him. "It's on land," he said more to himself, than to Beckett.

"Go where you wish, but know that I will punish every act of betrayal committed against me," he said firmly in a low voice.

Without uttering an answer, Will headed out of the cabin, at loss for what he should do.

* * *

Governor Swann stood in the middle of the cabin with his hands full of drawings, not knowing what to do with them. At last, he decided to put them into the heavy armoire that stood in the corner and seemed stable enough not to crash against the floor.

He carried two piles of pictures there, and opened the armoire... quickly stepping back when a large collection of shoes, hats, knifes, daggers, small sculptures, silver plates and unidentifiable metal objects of all kinds fell to his feet. He wrinkled his forehead at the disorganized wardrobe, wondering what he could find in all the other pieces of furniture in the cabin. Stepping away from the armoire, he went to one of the cabinets, and opened one of the drawers, finding it half-empty except for several rings, a quill, a few strangely-shaped stones and a mirror. He placed the drawings there, and bent down to pick some more, falling to the ground when the ship turned suddenly, leaning heavily on the starboard.

More shoes and a coat fell from the armoire, and the Governor's eyes traveled to them wearily. What was he doing here? The question sprung to his mind, suddenly acquiring a different meaning. There was a storm outside, people struggling to keep the ship from sinking, and him, among the others, from drowning. Perhaps there was also a battle... but he would not know that, would he?

He did not know where his daughter was, he could not do anything to help her. But perhaps he could help... in some way... somehow... He could help _somebody_. Why was he always kept away from what was _really _happening? Was it his own choice? Or the choice of the people around him? Was it because he was a Governor? Because he was old? Because he was _afraid_?

Was he afraid?

He staggered to his feet and looked out of the dark windows, the sea roaring outside, fearless and fearsome.

But was _he_ afraid?

He reached for a drawing on which Elizabeth was standing at the helm of a ship, hair fanning around her face, eyes narrowed, fixed on the invisible horizon.

She would not be afraid, would she?

He put the drawing away, and hesitantly picked the coat from the floor, and eyed it suspiciously for a moment, before putting it on and buttoning it quickly.

Elizabeth was missing, his life and his world were falling apart... If it was not the best moment to stop being afraid, he did not know when such a moment could be.

He reached for the knob, threw the hood over his head, and went out of the Captain's Quarters.

* * *

It was not the sea she had missed, it was not the feeling of water enveloping her skin, dragging her into comfortable coldness of life – for the ocean was life, more than anything else; and her life belonged to it as well.

It was not the scent of the sea air, the taste of salt lingering on her lips that she had missed. Not even the faint light of the moonlight, grey clouds, and rain – rain flowing down in torrents, glittering waterfalls of tears embracing the world, claiming it with every shuddering breath of the sky sending angry thunders into the impenetrable mirror of the dark sea.

She had not missed the thrill of danger, neither had she missed the music of the waves colliding with each other, fighting, breaking...

"We're back, luv."

His lips touched her ear, and slid down her cheek, rain-soaked, warm, and gritty – and alive. And it was his lips that she had missed most: the soothing whisper of his voice laced with the rhythm of the waves reverberating in her heart as they struggled to keep themselves on the surface, the sea around them roaring and unforgiving, but she did not care, wrapping her arms around him, the rain rolling down her cheeks, cold, angry waves surrounding them with suffocating insistence.

She awkwardly pressed her lips to the side of his face and smiled.

"You brought me back."

He kissed her cheek, and laughed briefly. "I did lost me count as to who brought whom back and from where and how, so we better leave this discussion for some sunny, all-day-abed morning, and now just do a bit of swimming, eh?"

A high wave washed over them, tossing them further away from the dark silhouettes of the ships.

"Or more than a bit," muttered Jack, wrinkling his forehead.


	48. Chapter 48

A/N: _**Thank you so much for all the fantastic reviews!**_

Disclaimer: I don't own PotC.

**Chapter 48**

"They freed Calypso," Elizabeth gasped against Jack's neck as the murky waves around them kept tossing them away from the ships.

"So it seems," muttered Jack, his eyes searching the darkness, trying to make out the silhouette of the _Black Pearl_ from among the dark shadows surrounding them.

A thunder crossed the sky, illuminating the sea for a mere split second, a moment long enough for a captain to notice his ship.

"We're close," Jack whispered into Elizabeth's ear, making sure his hold on her was strong. It was only too easy to lose her to the sea right now, and for the first time it occurred to him that his love for the sea with all its greatness and beauty would never be as desperate and overwhelming as the love to this fragile creature in his arms. "Hold on, luv," he whispered, his body suddenly feeling very warm, so warm that he half-believed the water around them started to boil, but after a few moments he felt again how freezing cold it was. He brushed his lips across his wife's forehead thinking how strangely wonderful it felt to care about somebody that much, to be responsible for somebody. Caring too much was dangerous, and responsibility used to be something he avoided at all costs, and yet right now it made him feel strong, strong and invincible like never before.

* * *

The sea was immense – and uncontrollable, all of a sudden, unexpectedly; at last. It fought and struggled, its sparkling perseverance shimmering under the pale stars with dangerous beauty reminding him of bitter dreams and lost illusions tasting of sea water and darkness.

She was the darkness. He used to love the darkness in her eyes, it used to be the only light he needed and wanted to mark his path, the road into blissful eternity of her arms... around him... once in every ten years...

Davy Jones took a step away from the rail, squinting angrily into the opaque darkness.

A lie, it was, the darkness. A lie, like everything else. Like her promises, like her eyes, dark mirrors of deception reflecting his own feelings too strong to hold, too strong to be enticing to her, to make her stay true to her word.

_Her word._ He snarled with seething bitterness, trying to shake the long-forgotten, cold feeling of grief off his mind. Her words were worth not more than a single gust of wind, a drop of rain, a tear-

"Load the triple guns!" he shouted across the deck, startled by the hoarseness of his own voice.

There was a battle to fight, the pain to inflict, the despair to drape over the seas...

He stood looking into the storm, already feeling her voice in the air, hearing her touch, seeing the approaching disaster invisible like the hurtfulness of his memories, and yet inevitable... But perhaps he could outrun her swiftness, best her fury, find the way to-

"What are ye hopin' to see in dat darkness, Davy Jones?"

* * *

"Governor! It's not safe here!" Gibbs passed the line he was holding to Bill Turner, and took a few staggering steps to Governor Swann who emerged from below the deck, his eyes widening at the sight around him.

He had never seen the sea so churned up and the sky so ominously dark, thunders criss-crossing like blades of swords in the fiercest of battles. He caught a glimpse of James Norrington at the helm, his wig gone, eyes fixed determinedly ahead of him, a deep frown imprinted on his forehead.

"Is there anything I can do?" the Governor shouted the question to Gibbs, who looked at him with surprised hesitation.

"Well, I-"

His answer was cut off by the series of orders coming from the helm, and a moment of confusion followed by a cannon ball that missed the _Pearl_ by several feet.

"Are they insane?!" somebody shouted. "Do they think that either of us stands any chance in a battle right now?!"

"Seems they ain't willin' to wait until the sky clears up," answered Gibbs frowningly. He turned back to the Governor to answer him, but the words froze on his lips, and his eyes widened as he stared past the Governor Swann at the most peculiar and unexpected phenomenon. "Holy Mary and all the angels above," he muttered incoherently.

"Beg pardon?" Governor Swann blinked, blaming his apparent mishearing of Gibbs' words at the deafening noise of the ocean around them. But when he noticed that the crew members who were working on securing the masts in near proximity stopped what they were doing and just stared with their mouths agape at whatever it was that was behind him, he decided to follow their gaze, and turned around as well.

Jack helped Elizabeth climbed up on the deck, and then looked around in the most casual manner, wringing one of his shirtsleeves, and then the other one.

Elizabeth looked around the ship with amazement. They were on the _Black Pearl_. They were back. They were really back.

"Mister Gibbs!" Jack called in a hoarse voice, his hands instinctively traveling to his head to fix his hat, which, sadly, turned out not to be there, and he grimaced at the unpleasant thought that it must have stayed on the _Endeavor_.

"Aye!" Gibbs exclaimed happily as soon as he regained his voice, a wide smile appearing on his face.

Jack shook his head, the dreadlocks hitting his face as he tried to cough out all the sea water he had swallowed while climbing amidst the angry waves who had insistently tried to thwart their climbing plans.

Elizabeth shivered, the cold air and the rain enveloping her, and causing her black, thin dress to cling to her body like a second skin. She looked up when Jack quickly pulled her toward him, his own clothes consisting merely of a shirt and breeches, serving him no better than her dress served her, and yet his closeness made her feel warm immediately.

"Go find yourself something dry to wear, Lizzie" he said to her, and then turned to Gibbs who appeared in front of them. "Mister Gibbs," started Jack in his best captain-y tone. "Why is my ship..." he looked around, wrinkling his nose, "all wet..." Jack moved his foot, inspecting the deck, "and slippery," he added with a frown.

"Well, we seem to be havin' a speck of a tempest here, sir," said Gibbs with a chuckle, smiling broadly, not even feeling the cold rain slashing across his face anymore. If there was Jack Sparrow there was hope - and faith in victory was all a ship and its crew really needed to carry on.

Jack scanned the deck, and narrowed his eyes at the crew who stood frozen in their stations, staring at him with wide eyes.

"It wasn't the best idea to go diving today," said Jack loud enough for them to hear him. "Awfully cold and" he made spinning motions with his hand, "twirly."

Elizabeth laughed, brushing her soppy hair off her face, and pressing her lips to Jack's cheek. "We made it back," she whispered with a bright smile, and he looked at her, for a moment forgetting about the rain and the storm around them. Drenched to the bone, exhausted, tired - she looked so beautiful, so _intense_ – that girl, that treasure found in the sea, the girl who burnt his rum, sent him to his death, brought him back, sold her soul for him...

He cupped her face with his hands, and kissed her on the mouth, her lips tasting only of rain at first, but then he broke through the rain, and the sea, and the past, and kissed the lips of his newly wed wife, of his Lizzie, and suddenly there were no other words needed to describe the taste of her lips, he was through with finding comparisons, tracing the scents lingering on her skin; it was all gone, irrelevant; and he was not afraid anymore to acknowledge that it was simply the taste of her lips, of her lips only, indescribable and overpowering, sweet taste of love, of passion and insanely unfamiliar sense of dedication and commitment. She was his, and he was hers, and if he could, if his lips were not upon hers, kissing her as if the world was going to end in the next moment, he would sing about it, scream about it, so everybody would know that this beautiful angel, beautiful pirate in his arms belonged to him, and that his roguish heart that he had not even known could love that much, belonged to her.

Gibbs diplomatically stepped back, feeling a bit awkward to interrupt and remind the happy returnees about the predicament they were currently in. He glanced at the helm where James Norrington stood holding the ship as steadily as possible, his eyes darting between the sea and the couple on the deck.

Despite the raging storm around them, the news quickly spread all over the ship, and soon more people gathered on deck, eyes wide as they whispered words of wonder to each other, staring at their captain in amazement.

"Elizabeth!" Governor Swann quickly made his way across the crowd.

Gibbs decided that it was the right moment to clear his throat, so the Governor would be spared the further sight of the kiss, which instead of coming to an end, was becoming more and more passionate. Married or not, it was not the sight to be appreciated by the girl's father, he suspected that much. Unfortunately, his subtle attempt to attract Jack's, or Elizabeth's for that matter, attention proved unsuccessful, and so the Governor simply stopped in his tracks and looked at the pair in silence as everybody else.

The further embarrassment was brought to a halt by the cannon fire which reverberated in the darkness along with the clangor of thunders, immediately reminding the stunned crew members what they should have been doing instead of gaping at their apparently resurrected captain.

Jack and Elizabeth broke the kiss, almost toppling over when the ship turned very suddenly, Jack's eyes darting to helm, alerted by the nearly tangible pain of his ship being handled in such a rough manner.

"That's an improvement," he said under his breath, somewhat relieved by the sight. "A king's always better than a mutineer."

"Aye," Gibbs agreed smilingly, still amazed by Jack's reappearance, even though he had had some suspicions that something was amiss when he had seen how unimpressed James Norrington was by Jack's 'death'. He did hope to hear the story as soon as the storm was over.

_A storm and a battle_, he thought as another cannon struck the churned up ocean surface near the _Pearl_.

"Father!" Elizabeth finally noticed the Governor, and Jack let her out of his embrace.

"Mister Gibbs, if ye were to say... in one sentence what's happening," Jack shifted his eyes between his first mate and his wife, who fell into her father's arms, causing him to smile inwardly. He had brought her back, he had brought himself back, her father was well, the _Black Pearl_ seemed well too, and he had three days to find a person who would be willing to stab the heart and sail the seas forever... which was probably the part that he should focus on while searching for a volunteer. It could not be too hard to find somebody who would like to be immortal, could it? He himself had entertained the thought until... until one day ashore and ten years at sea ceased to look so appealing to him. Ten years with Elizabeth and one day of ferrying the souls – _that _would have been an acceptable scenario, but he doubted if there was any possibility of convincing Calypso that it would be a far better arrangement.

He was brought back to the reality by Gibbs' mentioning of the goddess.

"... it seems to me she's not on our side, after all," finished Gibbs, and Jack decided to ask him later to repeat whatever he had said earlier.

"We've never thought she would, have we?" said Jack, wrinkling his forehead, and Gibbs blinked in puzzlement, but his further inquiries were interrupted by Jack walking away.

He shrugged off his confusion, and carried on with the orders, trying to make everybody go back to work, the general distraction being something they certainly did not need at the moment.

"You're alright?"Governor Swann looked at Elizabeth concernedly, "Are you sure you are?"

Elizabeth laughed, wiping the rain off her face, and blinking when a series of thunders drummed right above them. "Yes, yes, I'm fine," she looked at her father smilingly, relieved to see that he was well, and trying to fight her own overpowering exhaustion. It crossed her mind that if she was to close her eyes right now, she might have fallen asleep right there on the deck and out in the rain.

"Lizzie," Jack put a hand on her shoulder, and she spun around. The Governor looked at her, startled by how quickly her full attention could be redirected; he could almost feel all her thoughts shifting suddenly and exclusively to that man as soon as he merely brushed his hand over her skin. "Go below, find some clothes, ye're way too distractive in this garment, luv," he added, kissing her quickly on the cheek.

Her eyes fluttered shut for a split second and they locked eyes, and smiled suspecting similar thoughts running through their minds.

"Mister Ragetti!" Jack called on the top of the roaring waves. "Escort my wife below," he ordered, and Elizabeth smiled, and turned toward the stairs.

"I'll go with you," said the Governor, hoping to convince her that she should stay below, at least until the storm would calm down.

He made to walk after Elizabeth, but then stopped, catching a glimpse of Jack who grabbed Ragetti's arm, and amended his former request in a low voice:

"And make sure she stays there," he said with a meaningful look into Ragetti's eyes.

Ragetti nodded his understanding, and the Governor glanced over his shoulder at Jack who was already on his way to the helm, shouting orders, and it did not escape his notice that even though everybody had been working vigorously and following James' orders with astounding diligence, the atmosphere among the crew changed dramatically with Jack Sparrow's appearance; it was as if suddenly they all got new strength, and they seemed not only more committed to their tasks, but also more excited about them, doing everything with more vigor and speed than before.

He had to admit there was something extraordinary about the man, even though he could not quite decide whether it was rather something to admire - or something to fear.

For a moment he followed Jack with his eyes, but then went after Elizabeth, who was already half-way to the Captain's Quarters.

She pushed the door open, hoping to quickly find a shirt, a pair of breeches, and a coat, get dressed, and return outside as fast as possible. Actually, she needed two coats, for Jack was only in his shirt, and-

She stopped in her tracks, startled by the state of Jack's cabin: fallen pieces of furniture, papers and clothes scattered on the floor... Mostly papers, an amazing amount of papers. At first she thought they were maps, but soon she recognized her mistake. Slowly, she bent down and picked one of the drawings, looking at it with disbelief.

Ragetti walked into the cabin after her, followed by Governor Swann.

"Elizabeth-" the Governor started, but stopped seeing the look of astonishment on her face. He was not sure if she knew about the drawings, and now it was clear that she had not known.

"What are these?" she whispered, picking up another drawing.

Ragetti glanced over her shoulder interestedly.

"They slipped out of one of the drawers when the desk fell down," said the Governor, watching her, finally able to see her in the lantern light of the cabin, for it was too dark outside to see anything clearly.

He was relieved to see that she really seemed to be alright, except for her dress which was torn in two places, the look of exhaustion on her face, and the grey circles around her eyes serving as a proof if not of the lack of sleep at all, then at least as a proof of the lack of peaceful sleep. The rainwater was dripping from her hair on the floor, and her hands were shaking slightly, probably from tiredness as well.

"It's me," said Elizabeth quietly, picking up another drawing, and then taking a look around the room with a shy smile on her face. She remembered telling Jack that she used to draw pictures of him when she was little, and she remembered the way he had smiled at her then, but she attributed his smile to her words, while he must have been thinking about his own drawings of her. Only he had never told her about them! Perhaps he had no intention of telling her; it would have been the bluntest love confession, and he was not the one for love confessions, especially the blunt ones, she thought with an inward smirk.

Ragetti closed the door and walked further into the cabin, his eyes fixed on the floor. He looked at the drawings there, finally picking one of them and looking at it with such intensity, that it caught Elizabeth's attention, and she snatched the drawing out of his hand. He smiled sheepishly, turning back toward the door. Elizabeth shifted her eyes from him to the drawing, and... her eyes widened at an instant.

"What is it?" asked the Governor cautiously, walking up to her.

"Nothing," Elizabeth quickly dropped her hand with the drawing, blushing, and giving her father a nervous smile.

The Governor was about to ask again, but then the ship jerked, a wave hitting the windows in the cabin, bringing Elizabeth's attention back to their situation.

"I'll go get dressed," she said, holding the picture securely in her hand, quickly walking toward the open armoire, catching a glimpse of a snow white shirt, and to her surprise discovering several similar shirts as well. Why did Jack always wear only one?! She grabbed one of the shirts, smiling to herself. Or at least he looked as if he was wearing only one... She quickly found a pair of breeches, and then telling her father that she would be right back she disappeared in the side cabin, not noticing Ragetti's timid attempts to stop her.

He sighed when the door closed after her, anticipating that she would not be too happy to find out that he was here to keep her from returning on the deck. Nonetheless, there was no harm in letting her change her clothes, so he decided to just wait with the fatal announcement until she got dressed.

* * *

Davy Jones swirled around, fury burning in his eyes as he narrowed them at Calypso in the fruitless attempt to see her less clearly, to see her _less_, to threaten her with the intimidating coldness of his gaze, even though he feared that she was beyond his grasp now, freed from the bonds he had ordered at her, turning her into the helpless creature he himself had been while staring out at the dark green sea all those years ago, her absence crawling over him like lethal fever...

"Is that all you can do?" he growled, not taking a single step toward her, for she already stood too close, her dark skin glittering in the thunder light, eyes intent and ablaze, black hair fluttering in the wind, reaching for him... as if. "A storm no better than I've seen before," he continued, trying to escape his train of thought, that train of thought that was making her look like he remembered her, making her look _human_, and _close_, and he wondered how her eyes could hold so much light if she was freed, how her voice could sound so soft if she was no longer the prisoner of mortal fate, how her hands could feel so smooth against his skin, if she-

He brushed her hands off his face angrily, fixing her with his gaze that held all the resentment he had felt and nourished, and yet not enough, it seemed, to keep her away.

"Ye've gone de wrong way, de dark way, and all 'cause of me, I know." Her voice held sorrow so foreign that for a moment he just stared at her, forgetting his thoughts and her actions, music like a lightning flashing across his mind, broken sounds shedding light over the murky shadows of his memories.

"Why are you here?" he interrupted her harshly, measuring her with angry eyes, and she smiled sadly at the distrust looming in his eyes, a glimpse of fear, raw vulnerability flashing in his gaze for a split second and disappearing without a trace a mere moment later. "What do you want? _They_ bound you!" he shouted gesturing toward the pirate ships, dark silhouettes lost in the haziness of the tempest. "The Court bound you-"

"And ye're not a part of dem, hm?" she cut in, her voice losing all tenderness, as she stepped closer, and he wanted to step back but behind him was the rail, and so he only narrowed his eyes at her, cold and uncaring and yet-

"It was your own betrayal that bound you," he said in low voice, the wind swishing across the ice-cold syllables.

She stared at him with dark eyes, hard like stones of the lone shore he had once longed to return to...

And then she smiled; a slow smile that seemed fit to mark his end, and yet it did not turn into a sneer as he had expected, but slowly faded, and he blinked struck by the sudden change in her gaze. The rain over her stopped - even though it was still raining around them, and then he noticed that the rain was not falling over him as well, an invisible shelter stretched itself above them, but then he saw the rain again... It must have been the rain...

Transparent drops rolling down her cheeks, flowing from her eyes ceaselessly, making her skin glisten and soon her entire body was covered with silvery streams, and he found himself watching the _rain _on her skin, emitting strange warmth that radiated from it, enveloping him, and this time when she reached out with her hand he did not move, his eyes drawn to those drops that he could almost taste, the bitterness circulating inside of him like pain, like death, like destiny... as she had once said-

"I did not betray ye."

He was not sure if she spoke, or if it was his own mind making up the words, her lips barely moving, rain-stained, dark; unforgettable.

"I couldn't come. I've been taken away. Ye should've known..." she seemed to be dragging the words from somewhere far away, her voice hard and insistent. "Ye should've felt it in yer heart that I wanted to come-"

"I have no heart, you fiendish witch!" he leaped forward to walk past her, to walk away, to escape.

She grasped his arm, long nails digging into his flesh, the pain so strong that it sent a wave of heat through his body, and he did not know whether it was her grip that hurt so much, or perhaps her voice soft and melodic in his ear...

"It will be returned... It must be returned... It shall be returned to ye... as I am."

He turned his head abruptly, eyes glistening in the darkness. "Another infernal ploy-" he muttered almost absently, his thoughts millions of miles away, golden sand brushing against his feet, sunlight in her hair, the sea-

"No, not a plot, my love." Her face inched closer to his, her hand resting on his chest. "I want to feel yer heartbeat here again," she whispered, closing her eyes, and he watched the dried tears on her cheeks with wonder. "It shall be returned... It shall all be returned..."

* * *

"I'm ready," announced Elizabeth, taking a deep breath, and running out of the side cabin, tying her hair up with a sash she had found in one of Jack's drawers. "I will be alright," she said, giving her father a reassuring look, and continuing before he had a chance to answer her. "Please, stay here, the storm will be over soon, I'm sure," she said with a smile, giving Governor Swann a hug, and then heading for the door.

Ragetti backed away from her, his back hitting the closed door, an anxious look on his face.

Elizabeth stopped in front of him, widening her eyes at him questioningly. "May I?" she asked confusedly, reaching for the door knob, but Ragetti covered it with his hand before she touched it. Elizabeth stared at him with disbelief. "What-"

"I'm sorry, poppet- Mrs. Captain, that is," he quickly corrected himself, a sheepish expression on his face. "But the Captain said ye should stay here."

Elizabeth blinked, dumbfounded. "What captain?" she asked, puzzled, but then the understanding dawned on her while Ragetti looked away, trying to avoid looking her in the eye. "Well, let me through, because I wish to tell the Captain what I think about such orders-" she wanted to push Ragetti aside, but he stiffened, his hand still firmly clutching the knob.

"Elizabeth, perhaps..." Governor Swann walked to stand next to her, shifting his eyes between his daughter and Ragetti. "Perhaps it's really better for you to stay here," he said cautiously, with a hesitant smile.

"It is," Ragetti nodded eagerly.

Elizabeth turned around, staring at her father with wide eyes. "This is ridiculous," she whispered incredulously, darting her eyes back to Ragetti, trying to intimidate him with her angry gaze, but he smartly avoided looking at her, his eyes wandering around the cabin.

She glared at him, even though she knew she should not be angry at him, for he was only following the orders he had been given. What was truly infuriating: was _Jack_ - and the fact that instead of asking her to stay below he ordered for her to be kept below against her will!...

Of course she would not have stayed below if he had asked her to, but that was beside the point.

"I will say this once, and I won't say it again," she said through her gritted teeth. "Let me through."

Ragetti glanced at the Governor, as if in search of assistance, but then simply shook his head.

"Oh I will strangle him!" Elizabeth clenched her fists, and Ragetti winced, for a moment thinking that she was talking about him, but fortunately she stormed away from the door, looking around the cabin frustratingly.

Only mere moments ago she was the happiest woman in the world, there was nothing else she had needed but his arms around her, his lips on hers, his voice... She had missed him so much, every moment without him caused her physical pain, burning her inside out, running through her like hot river of red fire... And all she had wanted was his touch, the backs of his fingers ghosting over her skin, his fingertips outlining the contour of her lips, his hand encircling her wrist, his mouth-

And yet right after he had rescued her from the ordeal she had thought she would have to endure for twenty years, right after they had gotten each other back, right after she could look into his eyes again, despite her freshly defeated despair, her exhaustion, her _love_ for him, he just _could not_ fail to enrage her and to prove to be the most _infuriating _person on the face of this Earth!!

"Do I have to stay here as well?"

Elizabeth swirled around at the sound of her father's voice, his question addressed to Ragetti.

"The Cap'n ain't say anythin' 'bout that," said Ragetti with a shrug.

Governor Swann smiled faintly, finding the entire situation oddly amusing.

Elizabeth ran to her father, catching his arm with her hands. "Father, could you go tell Jack that this is absolutely-"

"I was going to go there anyway, Elizabeth. I'm sure there is something I can do, something I can do to help, but I have to say..." he sighed, seeing the increasing confusion and disbelieving irritation in her eyes. "I have to say that I agree with... your husband. It would be better if you stayed here. It's not safe outside, and watching out for you right now might only cause additional trouble. You will help more if you will just stay here, safe." The Governor took Elizabeth's hand in his and gave her what he hoped to be a reassuring smile, but judging from Elizabeth's facial expression it was all but soothing.

She opened her mouth to speak, but did not rightly know what to say, slightly taken aback by her father's words. And although she felt a warm glow inside her heart when the Governor used the phrase "your husband" which she knew must have caused him great effort to use, her annoyance at the situation prevailed.

"This is absurd!" she exclaimed, crossing her arms over her chest, stomping her foot, and grimacing at the sudden realization that she must seem really childish right now, the suspicion confirmed by the faint glimpse of amusement in her father's eyes.

The ship lurched, and she almost lost her balance which made her feel even sillier. She tucked a loose strand of her still soaking hair behind her ear and glared at Ragetti who dropped his gaze to the floor. The ship jerked again, and she tried to keep herself from falling when all of a sudden something occurred to her...

She fell to the floor, her father and Ragetti rushing to her to help her up. But as soon as they reached her, Elizabeth jumped to her feet by herself, and headed for the unguarded door, opening it, and running out of the cabin.

"No!" Ragetti ran after her with a very unhappy expression on his face.

Governor Swann stared after them for a moment, bewildered, and then followed them out of the Captain's Quarters, up the stairs, and onto the deck.


	49. Chapter 49

A/N: _**Thank you so much for all the amazing reviews! **_**:)**

Disclaimer: Jack, Elizabeth, etc. belong to Disney.

**Chapter 49**

It was dark and quiet; as always. There was nothing different in this silence, nothing strange in this darkness, and yet he felt as if everything was falling apart – unsaid syllables fading into the murky air around him.

He sat motionlessly, staring into the distance, trying to see what was not there, what should be there, but was not there anymore, or perhaps... it was never really there.

He closed his eyes, pushing away the thoughts, trying to ignore the feeling of emptiness that was always so familiar, so welcomed, so soothing... It used to mean peace, tranquility; an escape from the trepidation of everyday fever, from the fear of tomorrow, from hollow smiles and noisy words, from... life-

No.

From people.

He had loved life. He had loved life dearly. The shadows of the sunlight on the sill in the morning, the night air carrying music and voices, wind from the sea, from the mountains, different colors of seasons, different colors of clouds when he had looked at them out of the window... He would not have told anyone, for they would have laughed. But clouds did have different colors. They really had.

Resting his head in his hands he tried to remember how the light looked like... How _real _light had looked like, the light which was a part of his mornings and afternoons, the only companion, most of the times, for he had never met anybody who would have believed that clouds were as colorful as rainbows...

Light.

His eyes snapped open, triggered by a sound... or was it only his imagination playing tricks on him? There was no sounds, no light, no matter if he would open or close his eyes – there was no light. Light was gone.

She was gone.

He stood up abruptly. Where were those strange thoughts coming from? He did not know what to think about them... He did not even know what he was thinking, exactly...

She was just one of them – _them_, a nameless crowd in which he tried to find his key to immortality, and yet...

He should have felt resentment toward her, like toward all of them who had _failed him_. He had never felt sorry for leaving them to die, alone and lost in time and space... They had failed him – he had not wanted them, and it was their fault that at some point they had always tired him. He had always grown tired of the listlessness radiating from their sad eyes, from their bodies, and he could almost _see _life fading away from their souls. And yet he had never cared. He had never felt guilty, and now, all of a sudden, he did feel guilty... of _everything _he had ever done, because...

Because maybe if he had not done it, he would have been different... and if he would have been different maybe she would not have scorned him...

He slowly raised his hand and looked at the silver band around his finger. That light...

That light in her eyes... That fire... Everything he had wished his life had been and never was. Was that the reason for this strange longing that hovered above his every thought?...

She was gone, but... she still had that band around her finger... _He _did not really let her go... yet. She would come back. He would make sure she would come back. She...

He closed his eyes. He had never cared for their names...

_Elizabeth._

He repeated the name over and over. And every time he said it, their was a faint glimpse of sunlight flashing across his mind, and for a few moments he felt, he almost felt as if... he was alive... again.

* * *

"Put me down at once!" shouted Elizabeth, her voice coming out muffled due to both the storm and the temporary loss of breath when Jack flung her over his shoulder.

"In a moment, luv," replied Jack, shooting Ragetti a menacing look before heading below deck.

The Governor hardly had a chance to understand what was happening when they were already out of sight. Not really knowing whether he should stay on deck and help as he had planned, or follow Elizabeth and Jack to see if his daughter came to no harm, even though he did not really think...

He hesitated for a moment, but then a scream from below helped him to make up his mind rather quickly.

"Why can't I be on deck like everybody else?" He heard Elizabeth's voice as soon as he walked a few steps down the stairs.

"'Cause it's not safe there, and I don't want you to be swept off the deck and into the sea right after-" Jack paused and exhaled irately. "Is it really that hard to understand?" he snapped, holding her wrists in his hands, pressing her hard against the wall to prevent her escape. He wondered if it was always going to be like this. Would he have to always worry about her, this way or another?

He snorted inwardly at his thoughts. _'Course it's going to be like this. It's what happens when one is careless enough to fall in love._

"Why don't you lock everybody up, then?" said Elizabeth irritatedly, glaring at him. "That way nobody will get hurt!"

"Lizzie, stop being ridiculous. There's really no time for that. Be a good wife and do what I say," he said with a hint of amusement in his voice, but the hint must have been missed by Elizabeth who freed one of her hands, and tried to push him away. But then she drew back her hand abruptly, and stared at his chest as if remembering something.

"You were bleeding," she whispered more to herself than to him, and moved her hands to slid them under his shirt, but he caught them and held them in between them, earning another glare from her. "They said you were dead, and I saw-" she started, studying his face intently, her voice lower, but sharp; worried.

The Governor stopped in the middle of the stairs, wondering if it was really his place to interrupt, especially that they had apparently stopped arguing. But somehow he found himself listening to the conversation, and taking one more step down to have a clearer view of them in the dimly lit corridor.

"Shhh," Jack hushed Elizabeth with a smile, and kissed her hands clasped tightly in his. "I don't think I'd be standing here if-"

"Oh I have no doubt you'd be standing here no matter what," Elizabeth interrupted him angrily, trying to ignore the dizziness evoked by the simple act of letting him hold her hands and brush his thumbs over her skin.

"Is that so?" A lop-sided grin played about his lips, but Elizabeth snatched her hand away from his grasp, and crossed her arms over her chest.

"Tell me what happened," she said in the most serious and demanding tone she could muster.

The Governor watched from the stairs how Jack's eyes wandered around Elizabeth's face with great amount of amusement which could only aggraviate her more, he knew that much.

"Tell you what happened when, luv?" asked Jack innocently, bringing his hand to her face, but she brushed his hand away holding his gaze determinedly. The ship lurched, and Jack's thoughts subconsciously traveled to what was happening on the deck, and although he was _quite _certain that James Norrington _might _be able to lead the ship across the crossfire of thunders and enemies' cannons _almost _as well as he, nonetheless he would still preferred to be on deck and do it yourself. Unfortunately it suddenly occurred to him how difficult it was to take his eyes off his beautiful bride... which boded ill for the future... unless he would always keep her with him while being at the helm... The thought cheered him up a bit. Yes, that was an idea! They could just sail the ship together. He would keep her in an embrace, between the wheel and his body, which would have that additional advantage that she would always be within his sight range-

"Jack!"

Jack jumped up being suddenly dragged out of his reverie. He blinked and smiled. "I think we should postpone this conversation until battles are won, storms are gone, all that," he said with a wave of his hand, paling inwardly at the realization just how absurd his recent thoughts were.

And what was most absurd was the fact that he did not really think they were absurd at all, even though he knew they were absurd...

"I thought I killed you again," said Elizabeth in a soft voice, reaching for him, all of a sudden forgetting why she had ever been angry with him. How could she be angry with him? He was far too adorable to evoke feelings of anger-

She bit back a giggle, and wrapped her arms around his neck burying her face in his dreadlocks.

His arms quickly sneaked around her waist and he pulled her into a tight embrace. "It wasn't you, Lizzie," he said quietly, his lips ghosting over her bare shoulder. "It was me. Both times..." he added as an afterthought, and she wanted to move her head to look at him, but he slid his hands into her hair, steadying her in his embrace. "You don't really think you could do this if I was determined not to let you?" he asked, whispering the question into her ear, and kissing it repeatedly.

* * *

The Governor almost tripped over his own feet on his hasty way up the stairs and back onto the deck. He was hardly able to understand how it was possible to yell and glare at each other in one moment, and then stare dreamily and kiss in the next one. And he was even less able to stand there and watch the scene any longer, although...

He emerged from below, and looked around with a sigh.

...although it was comforting to see his daughter happy like this. For she was happy, he had no doubt about that. She looked happy even when she seemed upset... Underneath each glare there was that curious trace of complete surrender, and... admiration?... The way she looked at him... the way they looked at each other... something about the way he held her in his arms...

He smiled faintly to himself, and then frowned, staring out at the dark ocean.

Now he did not have one, but two children to worry about.

* * *

Elizabeth smiled at the sensation of Jack's lips against her skin, despite the grim thoughts flooding her mind at the recollections... Leaving Jack to the Kraken... taking away the little boy's life... taking away Jack's life-

She shifted in his embrace and tilted her head backwards rather abruptly, studying his face with grievous intensity. "How did you find me? How did you get into the Maelstrom of Time? How-"

He put his finger across her lips, and she fell silent, her eyes fixed on him. "I keep telling you, luv, and you keep forgetting. I'm-"

"Jack!" Elizabeth interrupted him, her irritation rising once again. "I want the true answer, not the standard answer."

Jack smiled, and cupped her face in his hands, her skin so warm and soft against his withered palms. And then he suddenly remembered – even though he had never really forgotten of course, but it was as if the thought was always knew, the realization catching him off guard no matter how many times it hit him – they were _married_, with all the fancy formalities he used to do not care about: the priest, the chapel, the vows... She was his wife. His own, personal, private, legally wedded wife who had pledged to spent the rest of her life with him, who had promised to always be by his side, who-

"Jack Sparrow. Stop evading answering m-"

She returned his kiss unhesitatingly, and kept her eyes closed when they broke the kiss.

"Missed ye, 'Lizbeth," he whispered against her lips, resting his forehead against hers. "Missed ye like hell, Lizzie," he said in a serious voice, so quiet, so soft and sincere that she held her breath afraid to break the spell of the moment.

Her eyes snapped open and she stared at his eyelids, the kohl almost completely gone, washed away by sea water.

"I missed you too, Jack," she placed her hands on his cheeks and kissed his mouth gingerly, planting small kisses on his lips.

"You broke the rule number one," he muttered, pouting slightly.

Elizabeth kissed him and giggled. "_Mrs. Captain Sparrow has to always be in the nearest possible vicinity from Captain Sparrow_," she whispered, and he opened his eyes with a smile, but then his smile quickly turned into a frown.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked grasping her arms, and looking at her sternly. "Why didn't you tell me it was _me_?"

"I told you already," said Elizabeth with a shrug, biting her lip. "I didn't want to confuse you."

Jack rolled his eyes, and cupped her face, threading his fingers through her hair. "I'm sorry for saying... for thinking... for being..."

"Jealous?" offered Elizabeth with a smug smile. Jack narrowed his eyes, ready to protest, but she silenced him with a kiss. "I know you were. I forgot that you might be. But even if I'd foreseen that, I couldn't have told you anything, so-"

"Why not?" he asked slightly tilting his head backwards to have a better view of her face. He noticed the dark shadows under her eyes, the exhaustion written on her beautiful face. _And being that tired she still wants to march up on deck and fight_, he thought with mixture of annoyance and admiration.

Elizabeth sighed. "Let's leave this all behind. It's in the past now. We just need to find somebody to stab the heart, and everything will be alright," she said quietly, trying to believe that it was as easy as it sounded, leaning into his touch when he cradled her face in his hands, wondering how he was going to keep his hands off her from time to time for the rest of his life, for he needed his hands for holding the helm, for example... Or perhaps she could hold the helm, and he could hold her... Yes. That was a perfect solution.

"First we have to find the heart," he said, leaning down, and pressing his lips to her throat.

She gasped, and rested her head against the wall behind her, fighting to keep her eyes open. "We have to go back on deck," she said in a strained whisper, his lips trailing a path of feathery-light kisses across her collarbones. She watched the lantern flickering at the opposite side of the corridor, the dim light making the corridor look mysterious and cozy...

He muttered something incoherently in response, his kisses growing more urgent, and she placed her hands on his shoulders to keep herself from fainting, her heart racing in her chest, frantic heartbeats reverberating in her ears.

She closed her eyes and smiled at the sudden realization that it was her home now. The _Black Pearl_. She had always liked the idea of having a house on her own: she would make sure it would have been beautiful and well-kept. She used to write down different little things she had come across like a certain set of teacups or an embroidery pattern that would look nice on the curtains... For a moment she wondered where the little, plush-covered journal in which she kept those notes could possibly be. She had had it for such a long time... She had thought one day she might find those notes useful... And she knew that now it was going to be different. A ship was not really a house and never could be... but... she did not know if she would like it to be. A house would keep her confined, a house would make her life predictable while a ship, while the _Black Pearl_ would lead her into the endless mystery of tomorrows, sunlit and spontaneous, beautiful and free-

"Lizzie-luv, we're married for mere few days and ye're already falling asleep while I'm kissing ye. This doesn't bode well at all," pouted Jack, drawing back to look at her.

A bright smile slowly appeared on Elizabeth's face, but she did not open her eyes, her head leaning against the wall. "I didn't fall asleep," she said amusedly. "I was just thinking..."

"Thinking?!"

She opened her eyes not to miss Jack's appalled face, and she laughed at the sight when she did.

"You're able to _think _when I do _this_?" He asked incredulously, but she had no chance to ask what he meant, for his lips crashed against hers, and she threw her arms around his neck, kissing him back passionately.

She did not exactly know how much time had passed since her disappearance at dawn... She was unable to count, and it did not matter anyway... It was too long, it felt like the eternity, and yet it felt as if not even a minute had passed since she was in his arms last time.

Last time... Their wedding ceremony, wedding night... She remembered the scent of the night air in Shipwreck Cove, the scent of the sea, of the candles doused by the wind... Jack's shaking fingers struggling with her red wedding dress...

"How is your... thinking going... now, luv?" he asked breathlessly, when they broke the kiss, gasping for air.

"Well, it's going quite well, thank you," she answered slyly, sliding her hand underneath his shirt, his muscles tensing under her touch.

He smirked, his dark eyes glimmering in the faint lantern light. "Is it now?" he asked, and kissed her again, his hand tugging the carefully arranged shirt out of her breeches, and gliding across the bare skin of her back. She gasped in surprise, his hand feeling unexpectedly hot against her skin... hot or cold... she was not sure... she could only feel the shivers running up and down her body, reaching from her toes to the last strand of her hair.

"Now..." she whispered between the kisses. "Now I want... now I want you to... I want you to..." she got lost in her thoughts, words ceasing to make sense anymore. Except for his name... his name always made sense to her, somehow. "Jack..."

"Could you do something for me, 'Lizbeth?" he asked in a barely audible whisper, drawing a contour of her lips with his kisses, his hands wandering all over her back, his rings and nails scratching lightly against her skin, and she moaned out loud, burying her face in the crook of his neck.

"Yes," she whispered, kissing his skin, and it took all his self-control to force his eyes open and focus.

"Stay below. Until the storm calms down. Just this once," he whispered gently, almost pleadingly, but firmly nonetheless.

Elizabeth stiffened, and opened her eyes, the reality slowly drifting back to her. She groaned and pulled back abruptly, freeing herself from his embrace. "Deceitful wretch!" she shouted, and to his utter surprise slapped him.

"Oi!" Jack winced, his hand flying to his cheek. "What was that for?!" he asked with a pout, the taste of her lips still burning his lips, and he subconsciously reached for her.

"You kissed me only to make me promise you that I will stay in the cabin!" she exclaimed irritatedly, and he widened his eyes at her.

"It was only _one_ of the _many _reasons, I assure ye!" he said defensively, rubbing his cheek with a hurt expression on his face.

"Oh, of course," Elizabeth narrowed her eyes at him. "Lustful beast," she hissed contemptuously, taking a step away from him, but then she stopped, and glanced over her shoulder to see him smiling at her joyously.

She burst out laughing and hid her face in her hands.

"Now at least we're clear at what you really think of me," stated Jack with pretended grievousness, pulling her into an embrace from behind.

She turned around in his arms. "This is not funny!" she said, smacking him half-heartedly on the shoulder, still chuckling.

"'Course it's not!" stated Jack decidedly, tucking loose strands of hair behind her ear. "And it won't go unpunished," he said, wiggling his eyebrows, and quickly kissing her lips before she started to laugh again.

"I just want to be there with you. I can take care of myself. I'm not a porcelaine doll, if you haven't noticed already," she said, breaking the kiss, and looking him intensely in the eyes, her tone hesitating between sounding demanding and meek; whatever could convince him better.

"But you certainly do look like one," he said, smirking.

Elizabeth narrowed her eyes at him, biting back a smile. "I'm not going to do what _you _want me to do, I thought you'd know that," she said in a tone deprived of anger and only marked by weakening annoyance. Would it be always like this? Would he be always able to undo her with merely the way he looked at her with those dark, lethally mesmerizing eyes of his?

"Oh, I do know it. But it doesn't mean I'm going to accept it." His lop-sided grin nearly made her smile, but she succeeded in keeping a straight face.

"You have no choice!" she said through her clenched teeth, thrusting up her chin.

He glanced at her lips, and then looked back into her eyes, and his hands found their way back under her shirt making her feel flammable all over again.

"Jack," she whispered, inching her face closer to his almost unconsciously. He gave her an infuriatingly questioning look, as if he did not know!...

"Yes, luv?" he asked and she wanted to roll her eyes, but somehow had no strength to do that.

"Kiss me," she breathed, and he took just a moment to grin before slanting his mouth across hers, his arms closing her in a tight embrace, his lips tormenting hers with fierce sweetness.

Slowly he motioned them to stumble closer toward the Captain's Quarters door, and when they were in front of them, he broke the kiss.

"I just want you to be safe," he said stroking Elizabeth's cheek with the back of his hand.

"I know," she whispered with a timid smile. "But-"

"Take a coat. You will freeze in this," he said, gesturing toward the cabin.

Elizabeth's eyes widened in happy surprise. "I will get one for you too," she said gleefully, turning around, and quickly walking into the cabin.

Jack winced, quickly producing a key from his pocket. He grabbed the doorknob, shut the door, and locked it, turning the key three times, and pulling it out with a sigh.

Before he even took a step away from his cabin, Elizabeth started banging on the closed door and screaming at him. He smirked at all the invectives he received, and although the prospect of dealing with her after the storm was over and after what he had just done did not seem too appealing at the moment, he was just glad she would be safe here and, having no other alternative, probably forced to get some well-deserved rest.

When she stopped pounding on the door so furiously, he raised his hand and knocked quietly. "Lizzie?"

There was a moment of silence and after that a quiet "What?" that held both anger and irritation, but also a glimpse of hope.

"I'm not sorry," he called to her, stifling a chuckle, and then quickly went away from the door, the noise of her fists against the wood chasing him up the stairs all the way to the main deck.

* * *

"The storm is subsiding, sir."

Beckett eyed the sailor warily, and nodded, dismissing him with a wave of his hand. He closed the door, and looked around with a frown, scrutinizing the disorderly looking cabin. It was really annoying that they had had to wait for the storm to end instead of ordering it to end. Something should be done about that. Didn't Jones have any impact on the weather at sea? He would check that and make sure that the Captain of the _Flying Dutchman_ was not playing any tricks on them. Who could know what was going on in that horrifying head of his?

Perhaps he should not have sent the heart back to Port Royal, after all. It might have been better to keep it near. With Jack Sparrow dead there was little chance somebody else would risk stealing it. Although one could never be too careful. The heart was safely hidden where he resided now - in the Governor's mansion in Port Royal.

He smiled to himself, throwing a coat over his shoulders. The victory was already theirs, it was only a matter of time. And after that he would return to Port Royal and supervise the executions until the last pirate would be hanged.

If he was lucky, Turner would be stupid enough to bring the young widow to the _Endeavor_. That would save him the trouble of searching for her himself.

The revenge would taste better if Sparrow was still alive, but there was nothing to be done about that now. Still, destroying something he had loved so dearly would be quite satisfying even if he was not there to witness it.

As for the girl... She would look very pretty standing beside him during the executions.

Perhaps he could even find enjoyment not only in the revenge itself, but in the way he intended to conduct it.

* * *

As soon as Jack's foot touched the first step leading to the helm, he felt somebody seize him by the arm and drag him backwards. He pulled out his pistol, turning around, noticing with some surprise that his pistol was black again, but not having much time to contemplate the fact as the red spot on his hand burned when he closed his hand tightly around the pistol.

"Wantin' to shoot me? After I sent yer beloved to ye?" Tia Dalma's lips stretched into a lazy smile.

"Ah," Jack exhaled, somewhat relieved, lowering his pistol, but then he raised it again, eyeing Tia Dalma suspiciously for a moment, before finally putting his pistol away with a twitch of his nose. "Sent her to the past for utterly selfless reasons, I imagine?" he said with a small, cautious smile, squinting.

"Selflessness isn't an attribute of de divine," she said, tilting her head to the side, and Jack noticed that at least several layers of dark mystery were gone from her face, her dark eyes brighter than he had ever seen them.

"Really?" Jack widened his eyes at her, taking a step backwards and watching her face in the scattered light given off by the thunders. He could feel in his bones that the storm was subsiding, and he wondered what it meant. Forgiveness or a worse tempest yet to come... "I thought it is. Unlike with us, modest mortals who-"

"I've a favor to ask of ye," she interrupted him, coming closer, her face turning serious, and for a moment she looked neither as a goddess nor as a priestess he had once known. For a moment she looked just like an ordinary girl.

"Well, flattered as I am I've to remind ye, darlin', that I'm a married man now-" he started backing away, until he hit the wall behind him.

Tia Dalma stepped yet closer, her eyes boring into him. "He needs him heart. _I_ need him heart to give it back to him. Without that he can't move on and I can't take him away with me."

Jack sighed. Why did everybody want the bloody heart? The world was full of valuable objects, why always that slimy piece of beating tentacles of all things-

"I don't have it," announced Jack nigh cheerfully.

Calypso narrowed her eyes at him. "I know that," she hissed with a frown, and Jack wrinkled his forehead, deciding that putting on a more serious expression might be advisable. "I want ye to find the heart and bring it to me."

Jack looked at her gloomily, but then his face brightened. "Ye want to stab it?" he asked with a hint of hopefulness in his voice, but the hope was gone as soon as Tia Dalma's hand closed around his throat.

"Don't ye dare to stab the heart!" she whispered threateningly, and Jack quickly shook his head.

"I assure ye that it didn't even cross me mind, darlin'. Why would I want to do that?"

She seemed to consider his words for a moment before letting go.

"Besides," Jack coughed, regaining his breath. "Yer seaweed-covered Romeo already asked me to bring him back said piece of his slim-" he trailed off, trying to think of something that would sound less insulting, "his... slightly decayed flesh, so-"

"Don't give him the heart. Give his heart to me," Calypso interrupted him urgently. "He doesn't trust me yet..." she looked away for a moment, and Jack wondered whether it were only raindrops that glistened on her face... "I don't know what he'd do with it if ye gave it to him," she said, looking back at Jack. "So I want ye to bring it to me, so I could give it to him, give it back, give it really back to him," she finished quietly.

"He gave me three days," said Jack, waving his hand with the red burn on it in front of Tia Dalma's face.

"So bring it to me before the three days are over," she said irritatedly.

Jack winced. He had to bring Davy Jones his heart within three days, and now he had even less than three days, because he had to deliver the heart to Calypso instead. And in addition to that, he promised the god of Time to make sure the heart would be stabbed. Now. If the heart would be stabbed, Jones would never find out... well, at least he could not do anything about that. However Calypso was a totally different story. She would find out that the heart got stabbed, and then...

"Will ye bring it to me?" she asked, looking at him intently.

"Of course, that's what friends are for, aye?" Jack forced a smile, thinking that as long as he did not have the heart he could promise it to anybody... if that made people – and other entities... - happy.

Calypso's tense facial expression relaxed and she smiled, and Jack glanced heavenward noticing the dark clouds dispersing above the _Black Pearl_.

"I will see ye then," she said, stepping backwards, and disappearing in the shadows.

Jack stood for a moment, staring into the distance with a frown on his face. "I need rum," he muttered, heading back toward the helm. Somehow he could not get to the helm today.

"Jack, it's clearing up!" Gibbs greeted him cheerfully, as soon as he spotted him, the atmosphere among the crew improving with every ray of sunshine that fell onto the deck.

"Aye, that it is," said Jack staring out at the sea, the shape of the _Endeavor_ becoming clearer and clearer.

The dark mist was lifting, the clouds were almost completely gone, and the light drizzle seemed to be the only indication of the passing storm...

"Is that a ship?" Ragetti's voice broke the silence, when the disappearing mist on the horizon revealed blurry silhouettes of-

"Ships," corrected Pintel, squinting. "One, two, three, fo-" he started counting the ships with his finger, but then his finger stilled, and he held his breath as well as everybody else at the sight.

Ragetti blinked, mouthing some words, and after a moment elbowed Pintel and asked him in a low voice: "What comes after forty nine?"

Pintel shifted his eyes to him. "Our funerals," he said grimly.


	50. Chapter 50

A/N: _**Thank you so much for all the beautiful reviews! **_**:)**

...& I don't really know how to tell you this, but... I have to put the story on hiatus for a month... I'm going on vacation, and I'm not taking my computer with me... Technically, I will be gone for 3 weeks, but then when I get back I have to take care of some school-related things, so... There will be one more chapter (apart from this one) before I leave, and then chapter 52 will be posted around September 17th. I hope that you won't forget about this story until then! :)

Disclaimer: I don't own Jack, Elizabeth, etc.

**Chapter 50**

"Has anybody here heard of a battle won by the mere act of staring at the enemy?" Jack broke the silence, turning around to face his crew.

There was a moment of silence before Ragetti began uncertainly raising his hand, which was quickly pushed down by Pintel who firmly shook his head with a smile.

"I didn't think so," said Jack in a dark voice. "Back to yer stations!!" he bellowed, and the spell cast by the vast number of the East India Trading Company ships that had appeared on the horizon was broken abruptly, as the pirates scurried off to their posts.

Jack glanced at the black sails billowing in the wind that was still strong despite the fact that the storm had ended. Quickly, he made his way to the helm. The end of the storm did not guarantee anybody's safety... He would have to deal with his bristling bride later anyway, so it did not really matter if he kept her below not only until the storm, but also until the battle was over.

He gripped the wheel, the familiar texture of the withered wood soothing beneath his palms, and yet he longed for an entirely different feeling... smooth, ivory skin warm and trembling under his touch...

"Is Elizabeth-"

Jack turned his head at the sound of the Governor's voice, hoping that the images in his head were not showing in his eyes. "Locked," he answered in a low voice. "Safe," he amended with a faint smile.

The Governor nodded almost imperceptibly, watching Jack with curious intensity. "She's always been stubborn-"

"No, not that," Jack interrupted him almost unconsciously, shifting his eyes back to the sea that was stretched before them. "Brave, restless, rather. Not stubborn. Stubborn lacks purpose. She's valiant, spirited, she wants to-" he trailed off, suddenly realizing that not only did he speak his thoughts out loud (a careless action in itself), but he also must have sounded as if he had more authority to talk about her than her own parent. "I'm sorry," he said glancing at the Governor. "I didn't mean to... sound-"

"Like somebody who knows her well?" asked the Governor in a low voice with that strange expression on his face, a trace of a smile, and yet not a smile... "There is no necessity to apologize," he said calmly.

"I may know her heart well, but I'm rather far from predicting what she might do," said Jack with a cautious smile, shifting his eyes to the sea.

"I've always thought actions are simpler to predict than the directions a human heart might choose to take," said the Governor looking away, and wrinkling his forehead at the growing number of ships on the horizon.

"Not much choice on a ship in the middle of the ocean," replied Jack, his eyes fixed on the approaching fleet.

Governor Swann glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. He would have never believed that one day he would sail across the ocean on a pirate ship... on Jack Sparrow's ship, especially.

He still vividly remembered that day on the docks when he had rescued Elizabeth from drowning, and then threatened her to barter his escape. He remembered how appalled he was by the attack, by the man's tarred hands on his daughter's shoulders, his eyes roaming over her with inappropriate interest, a suggestive smirk on his face. And yet she had stood her ground and he was proud how brave she was steadily returning the man's gaze with cold haughtiness. It was all that he had seen then. A ruthless, vile attacker and a brave, innocent victim. But it seemed he had not seen it all...

For the man was apparently not vile, having freed the slaves and condemned himself to a life as an outlaw even though, it seemed, it was not how he had originally planned to live his life. And the Governor had also learned that on that day in the docks he had merely come in search of his stolen ship. Not to mention all the tales he had heard in Shipwreck Cove... He suspected not all of them were true, but he noticed the lack of stories about violent attacks, vicious kidnappings, bloody murders... which would certainly be told if there were any. All the tales concerning Jack Sparrow had rather something to do with clever tricks, unbelievable amount of luck, ingenious ideas and miraculous escapes. There seemed to be nothing evil about the man (except for his apparent habit of borrowing things and ludicrous amounts of money with no intention of ever giving them back.)

As for Elizabeth... Was her haughtiness on that day only a mask put on to cover her fear? That was what he had believed for a long time, but he should have known better even then... Knowing her uncalled for fascination with the sea and pirates... She had not been terrified. She had been thrilled.

"She is not used to the life at sea. No matter how much she wishes to be," said the Governor thoughtfully, looking ahead. "She's not used to-"

"It's a bit too late to talk either of us out of this, I'm afraid," interrupted Jack in a low voice, a glimpse of amusement in his eyes. "We're married," he said, trying not to smile but failing.

"It would be hard not to notice," said the Governor, and Jack's eyes darted to him, catching a faint smile on his face, although he was not able to guess exactly what the Governor meant by his remark. "Oh, and..." Governor Swann reached into his pocket, and pulled a piece of paper out of it, handing it Jack. "This came into my possession somehow, but seeing that I was neither the author nor the recipient of this... note..."

Jack's eyes immediately caught the sight of _"Captain Groom and Beautiful Bride"_ and he did not even need to read the entire note to know what it was.

"I'm sorry for the lack of the invitation," said Jack seriously, folding the letter, and looking up at the Governor.

"I'm not sure I would've allowed it if I'd been invited," said the Governor with a trace of a smile flickering across his face, turning his head to look at Jack, who nodded slowly.

"There was no time. I didn't want Lizzie to change her mind," he said good-humoredly, putting the note into his pocket, and placing his hands back on the spokes.

_Lizzie_. Governor Swann caught the name with a strange sense of regret. Something had ended. Something was gone. A chapter of his life had been closed and locked away forever. He had raised Elizabeth, his daughter Elizabeth Swann, and he had never thought that one day she might be gone. But now she was gone. And not because she had gotten married - he had always known it would happen one day and he was far from ever considering her happiness his loss in any way - but because she changed, her heart changed, and she was no longer simply herself: a girl, a daughter, a wife, even... Now she was _Lizzie_ - and that apparently innocent variation of her name carried more meaning that any elaborate last names ever would. Moreover, he suspected that she liked it. She liked being Lizzie and not Elizabeth, and... and perhaps the only thing he could do was to accept that change.

"Well she didn't, and she probably wouldn't," said the Governor pensively. "Unlike me," he added as an afterthought. Jack looked at him, turning his attention away from the enemy ahead of them for a moment. "I just want her to be happy."

"So do I," said Jack firmly in a barely audible whisper.

"And safe," continued the Governor, shifting his eyes to Jack.

"This life isn't safe." Jack looked him straight in the eye, his own eyes bright with sincerity that the Governor found surprising. "But with all due respect, Governor... neither is yours," he said seriously with a small, impish smile.

"I can't very well agree that the life of my only daughter will be based on chance and uncertainty, Captain Sparrow, can I?" the Governor clasped his hands behind his back and looked at him warily.

"I will keep her safe," said Jack in a serious voice, and it struck the Governor that all drollness and whimsicality was gone from his eyes and his entire person at an instance, and he suddenly realized that if the circumstances were different, in a different place, in a different attire, and with different... hair, he would not have been able to differentiate between him and a distinguished aristocrat, if the man would only choose to be perceived as such. "I will always find a way to rescue her. But I will make sure she won't be in need of rescue too often, of course."

Governor Swann looked at him for a moment. "Keep her safe... by locking her up?" he asked after a pause, and Jack could not guess if there was underlying humor, or underlying annoyance in his voice.

_Or shackling her to the bedpost_, thought Jack, smirking inwardly, but decided that it would not probably be the wisest thing to say out loud. "If that's necessary," he said instead, glancing at the Governor to see if even that answer was not too bold.

"Well, Elizabeth certainly won't be bored there," came the answer, and it crossed Jack's mind that the conversations with his... father-in-law would be more demanding than he had initially thought. But perhaps he should not be surprised. Elizabeth could not take her infuri- intricate personality after only one parent. "She was always very fond of art," said the Governor holding Jack's gaze for a moment long enough to bring a look of confusion on his face.

"I did my best to keep it... well-decorated," said Jack cautiously, not quite hearing any sarcasm in the Governor's voice, even though the irony must have been there... "Although the furniture might appear to be slightly outdated..."

"I didn't mean the furniture," Governor Swann interrupted him with a small smile, and then before turning around and walking away, to Jack's utter dismay added: "I meant the drawings."

* * *

"Tardiness may cost you more than you can afford," said Beckett, straightening up, and measuring Davy Jones with his cool gaze.

"I do not have to listen to your orders," hissed Davy Jones, standing in the middle of the _Endeavor_'s deck with a menacing expression on his face.

Beckett snorted under his breath. "I do believe we've had a similar discussion. Is there really a need to repeat what you already know?" he took a step toward Davy Jones, unlike the soldiers around them who seemed to be moving as far away from the strange creature as possible. "Your heart is in my possession," said Beckett in a low voice, his eyes boring into Davy Jones with cold seriousness. "And if-"

The soldiers standing nearby gasped, when Davy Jones' strange claw closed around Beckett's neck. "And now your throat is in my possession. What are you going to do about that?" he asked, inching his face closer.

Beckett grimaced slightly with disgust, keeping his gaze fixed steadily on Jones, his indignation at the miscreant's behaviour ruling over his fear. "If anything happens to me, your heart will be lost," he said as distinctly as it was possible with the limited access to air that he had at the moment.

"Lost," Davy Jones echoed with a snarl. "Was lost long ago..." he whispered to himself, looking away, but then quickly shifted his angry eyes back to Beckett. "You'd have to stab the heart to kill me. Do you have anybody who would be willing to do that and inherit my fate?" he asked with an artificial smile.

Beckett snorted, and Davy Jones narrowed his eyes at him. "And what is so terrible about your fate?" he asked blankly.

Jones' grip tightened, causing Beckett to flinch. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the soldiers exchanging uncertain looks with each other, deliberating what to do.

"Bound to a ship. Ten years at sea, one day ashore," growled Davy Jones, a hint of sadness woven into the darkness of his tone. He looked at Beckett intently, but the man seemed unimpressed.

"You're the master of the seas," said Beckett slowly, drawing a sharp intake of breath, holding his head high, and fixing Jones with his cold eyes.

_I'm the prisoner of the seas_, thought Davy Jones exhaustedly, but it was not a statement to be made out loud. "Giving up one's freedom is a high price to be paid," he said instead.

Beckett's lips twisted into a sneer. "One's freedom is measured by the number of people one can bound, and not by the ability to walk among them," he said with cool firmness.

Davy Jones looked at him for a moment before abruptly letting go, and sending him to the ship's deck. Two guards immediately rushed to his side, helping him to get up.

Brushing the dust off his clothes, Beckett shot Jones and annoyed look, his jaw set. "I want them destroyed," he said through his gritted teeth.

Davy Jones snorted. Sinking Jack Sparrow's ship once again did not agree with his plans... at the moment, for it was Sparrow who was to return the chest to him, and there was no easier way of doing that, than following the trail leading to where the heart was.

"If you want them destroyed, you will have to destroy them yourself. I will not do a thing until you bring me back the heart." Beckett's mouth twitched, but he did not say anything. "And bear in mind the storm that has just passed, for should anything happen to the heart, that storm will be upon you, and you will not be safe neither at sea, nor on land, for the winds of fury will reach you no matter where you will hide," said Davy Jones in a low, ominous voice. "I will consider defeating them when I will see the chest," he added, and pursed his lips in an arrogant half-sneer, turning around, and to the soldiers' dismay disappearing from the deck of the _Endeavor_, and appearing on the deck of the _Flying Dutchman_.

Beckett stared after him with the look of utter annoyance on his face.

"Sir?" Mercer's voice drifted into Beckett's angry thoughts. "Should we set the course back to Port Royal?"

Beckett turned to him, even more annoyed by being given advice when he was not asking for one. "Hold the fire and wait for my command," he said with decreasing impatience, glancing at the _Black Pearl_. "I shall inform you about any further actions," he glanced around irritatedly, and headed below the deck to collect his thoughts in silence.

* * *

Jack ran to the Captain's Quarters leaving the helm to Gibbs, who did not dare to observe that the enemy's fleet gaining on them was perhaps a more pressing matter than everything else at the moment.

With a sigh, Gibbs took the wheel and shook his head with a small smile. There was not a moment of peace to be had with two such fiery spirits on board. He could not imagine how they were going to get along with their respective desires to have everything their own way. Surely love could keep them from strangling each other, but it could not keep them from arguing – all the time, and he was not sure if that was something that should be witnessed by the crew.

"They stopped."

Ragetti's voice shook Gibbs out of his reverie, and he blinked against the sunlight, narrowing his eyes at the approaching ships.

James Norrington wrinkled his forehead, and pulled out a spyglass.

"They're up to no good, are they?" asked Pintel in a low voice, his brows furrowed.

James snapped his spyglass closed and sighed. "As for now, they are up to nothing, Mr. Pintel" he said with a hint of irritation in his voice, turning away from the rail and walking hastily toward the helm, frowning at the sight of Jack heading below deck.

"Mr. Pintel," Ragetti chuckled, his entire face smiling from amusement.

Pintel darted his eyes to him, annoyed. "What's so funny about it?" he snapped through his clenched teeth, glaring at Ragetti, who stopped chuckling at an instant.

"Nothin'," he said with a shrug.

"Ye didn't laugh when he called ye _Mr. Ragetti_!" reminded him Pintel peevishly.

Ragetti rubbed his forehead, looking thoughtful. "That's 'cause Mr. Ragetti ain't sound funny," he said matter-of-factly, after a moment of consideration. "But Mr. Pintel does," he added smilingly with another chuckle, which turned into a whimper of pain, when Pintel's fist collided with his nose.

* * *

Jack turned the key in his hand several times before actually putting it into the lock and opening the door. He hoped that perhaps half an hour was enough time for Elizabeth to calm down and not attack him as soon as he entered. But even if she would, it was still the risk he had to take to see what had happened in his cabin that made it possible for the Governor to see his drawings. And if Elizabeth had also seen them...

Cautiously, he pushed the door open, and walked inside, somewhat relieved that Elizabeth seemed not to be in the main cabin, and he smirked inwardly at the thought that she must have gone to his- to _their _bed chamber.

But then suddenly the smile was gone from his lips, and he stood frozen, staring at his cabin's floor with horrified disbelief. The floor was covered with the drawings, papers scattered _everywhere_, the results of his sleepless nights and daydreaming laying bare for everyone to see, for _her_ to see. He felt cold shivers running up his spine at the thought. It was as if she looked into his soul and saw with her own eyes that desperate man chanting her name in his dreams every night, and there was something disturbing about the thought, even though she knew that he loved her... And yet knowing that he loved her was somewhat different from realizing just how much and for how long...

Scanning the cabin with wary eyes, he noticed the collapsed desk and the clothes that had fallen from the open armoire. Slowly, he made his way to the side cabin's door, and listened. He could not hear anything, but it did not guarantee that Elizabeth was not hiding right behind the door...

He took a deep breath, and opened the door, careful not to do it too violently in case she had really been hiding behind it...

But she wasn't.

_So you were tired, after all, luv._

* * *

Ragetti looked at Pintel with a hurt look on his face. "It's not my fault it sounds funny," he said carelessly causing Pintel's blood to boil.

"It ain't!" he shouted, huffing in annoyance. "It sounds just right!"

"If it sounded right, it wouldn't sound funny," countered Ragetti with a shrug.

"It ain't sound-" started Pintel in a loud voice, but stopped at the suddenly confused look at Ragetti's face, and turned around, following his gaze.

They both stared at Jack's hat that suddenly appeared on the deck of the _Black Pearl_, followed by a hand, and then another hand, and then...

"How did _ye_ get here?!" asked Pintel incredulously, pointing his finger at Will.

Will climbed up on the deck, and then picked up the hat, and staggered to his feet, water dripping off Jack's coat.

"Sea turtles," he said, breathing heavily, and walking past Pintel and Ragetti who stared at him in bafflement. "I always carry them with me."

* * *

Jack's heart skipped a bit at the sight of Elizabeth curled up on his bed, her cheek pressed to the pillow, one hand under her head, the other dangling over the edge of the bed, hair spread around her head. She looked every inch the princess his mother had always included in her stories that were meant to lure him into sleep, but had usually rendered him fully awake instead.

He smiled to himself, and quietly crept over to the bed, sitting down next to his sleeping wife, and drawing the backs of his fingers across her cheek. She stirred in her sleep, and he lifted his hand for a moment, before running his fingertips very lightly over her skin once again.

It was so very simple. She was here and she was his, and the world was a peaceful place no matter what tempests and wars were raging around them.

He glanced out of the window, the blue ocean sparkling in the sun, the _Endeavor_'s hull floating near them. For some reason the firing initiated during the storm now ended as Beckett was apparently waiting for something – or deliberating what to do. Either way, he would hear the cannon fire when it would break out, wouldn't he?

Satisfied with that convenient conclusion, Jack took off his boots, and lay on his side propping his head with his elbow, and looking at Elizabeth's sleeping face, her back turned to him.

He rested his other hand on her shoulder, sliding his fingers under her dress and stroking her skin as lightly as possible, not wishing to wake her.

She sighed quietly, and then turned onto her back, tilting her head slightly toward him, her hand falling unconsciously over his leg.

Jack smiled, slid his hand underneath her, draped his other arm over her, and pulled her closer, cautiously resting her head on his shoulder. She turned even more to him, snuggling her face into his chest. He placed his open palm on her head and gently stroked her hair.

Was it all even real? He still remembered the spray of the sea when he had sailed away from Port Royal, leaving her at the top of the fort from which she had earlier fallen into his arms... He was not going to see her ever again. It was over, before he had even started believing that it could have begun... And then, to his astonishment, every day was worse than the previous one. Every day had been making him more anxious and uncomfortable, and it was then that he had started to draw her... Dimly lit cabin, rum, paper, and pencils. Sometimes he had had an impression that he had spent more hours drawing than manning the helm, which was not true, but even the impression alone was the best proof of his strange state of mind back then. He had barely known her... He had barely _seen _her, and yet the further away he had sailed into the sea, into his thoughts, into his plans... the closer some bizarre, insistent current kept pushing him back to her; to her face, her eyes, her smile...

He slowly twirled a lock of her hair around his finger, and leaned down, pressing a reverent kiss to her lips. She shifted in her sleep, and then her eyes fluttered open.

She blinked, and wrinkled her nose, and then closed her eyes, but almost immediately opened them again, jumping up and sitting upright on the bed.

"You treacherous wretch!" she exclaimed, grabbing a pillow, and hitting him with it.

Jack straightened up, a bit overwhelmed by her sudden awakening, and quite shocked by how quickly she could recover from sleep.

"Liz-" He shook his head, as the pillow hit him again, and for a moment he wondered if it was possible to break one's nose with a pillow.

"I won't let you treat me worse than your crew!" she shouted, swinging the pillow at him again, but he caught it, and pulled it out of her hands.

"Worse than me crew?!" asked Jack incredulously.

"Yes!" Elizabeth huffed in annoyance, and grabbed another pillow. "You trust them more than me if you think they're capable of being out in the storm fighting, while you consider me unable to-"

"Ah, ah, no, no, luv," he interrupted her, grabbing the pillow and throwing it away. "Trust has nothing to do with it," he grabbed her by the arms, and in one swift movement threw her onto her back, pinning her hands to the mattress. "It's merely _my_ peace of mind that is at stake here."

"Your peace of mind?" asked Elizabeth irritatedly, glaring at him.

He leaned down even more, and smirked feeling her heartbeat quickening when he pressed his chest to hers. Her dress was still wet, and so was his shirt, and he could feel her tremble at the sensation of their almost skin to skin contact.

He swallowed, forcing himself to speak. "I can't afford watching your every step, luv. Making sure that you won't trip, or fall overboard, or-"

"Do you even hear what you're saying?" cut in Elizabeth. "Are you going to keep me below during every storm for the rest of my life?! This is not only ridiculous, but impossible!" she stated firmly, turning her head to the side, and ostentatiously looking away from him.

He wanted to answer, but his eyes were suddenly drawn to her exposed neck, her cleavage, and her scent hovering over her, over them...

Leaning down, he pressed his lips to her skin, and she turned her head abruptly, causing him to draw back. She looked at him with mixture of renewed annoyance and...

His lips claimed hers leaving her no choice but to respond to the kiss. It felt wonderfully familiar and thrillingly new at the same time. Elizabeth's hands found their way around Jack's neck, pulling him closer. "Not probable," he breathed between the kisses, but she hardly remembered what her question was... if she had asked any question...

She slid her hands under his shirt, gliding them up his back. "You have no right to order me around," she muttered, his lips trailing soft kisses across her collarbones. "And no right to kiss me," she added struck by a sudden idea. "First you have to promise me that-"

Jack silenced her with a kiss, and then put his finger across her lips. "Let me inform you, darlin' _wife _that I have a legal right to kiss you without making any promises, in fact, I made the very promise to kiss you for the rest of your life," he gave her a lop-sided grin, brushing her hair off her shoulders, and she found herself smiling back at him.

"You're a very lucky man, Jack Sparrow," she said seriously, and he raised his eyebrows cradling her face in his hands. "You're very lucky that I love you so much."

He grinned, and kissed her feverishly on the mouth. "And you're a very lucky woman, Lizzie Sparrow," he whispered with a roguish smile.

"Well, I can't say I had too many occasions to realize that," she said, narrowing her eyes at him. "I can't be out in the storm, I can't fight," she started enumerating in an annoyed tone of voice.

Jack rolled his eyes. "Why can't you let me take care of you for a little while? A year or so? Give me time to get used to you constantly putting your bonnie self in danger?" He brushed his thumbs over her lips.

"A year?!" Elizabeth widened her eyes at him.

"A year is not long, is it?" asked Jack with a small smile, nuzzling her neck, and encircling her waist with his hands.

But then suddenly his hands were brushed away, and Elizabeth pushed herself to an upright position.

"I know what you're up to," she said, her eyes boring into him, sparkling angrily.

Jack blinked, giving her a confused look.

"A year," she repeated in a mocking tone, crossing her arms over her chest.

Jack's eyes shifted right and left. "Aye," he nodded, not really knowing what angered her so much in his proposition. "A year."

Elizabeth snorted sarcastically. "Very clever plan, Captain Sparrow, but I'm not that stupid," she said, pursing his lips.

Jack wrinkled his forehead in growing puzzlement. "Lizzie, I don't-"

"Let me tell you, that even when we'll have children, I won't be staying below the deck only to keep your mind peaceful," she snapped, getting off the bed, and smoothing her dress.

Jack stared at her with wide eyes, trying to comprehend what she had just said. An image of several little Lizzies climbing up on his desk and throwing his maps in the air suddenly sprung to his mind.

"That wasn't the reasoning behind my suggestion, 'Lizbeth" he said with a chuckle, sliding off the bed, and swaggering toward her.

She looked at him intently, almost threateningly, but seeing a perfectly amused expression on his face, her irritation faltered. "Oh," she said, biting her lip. "So why did you-" she trailed off with a sigh, when he drew his hand across her face. She closed her eyes and leaned into his touch. "I wish that war would end and we could just live..." she said quietly.

Jack pulled her into his embrace, resting his head on top of her head. "It will end, this way or another. Everything ends."

Elizabeth drew back. "Not everything," she said softly.

He smiled, that thoughtful, gentle smile that always made her worry. "Yes. This will never end," he said, pressing his lips to hers, and kissing her slowly, his embrace tightening, making her feel safe, the feeling of his arms around her bringing sudden tranquility over her.

"How do we find the heart? How do we find somebody to stab it?" she asked in a low voice, pressing her cheek to his chest.

"In less than three days," added Jack grimly, but then stiffened at his carelessness, hoping that she had not-"

"Why in less than three days?" asked Elizabeth suspiciously, looking up at him.

"Luv, I'm Captain Jack Sparrow, and Captain Jack Sparrow being Captain Jack Sparrow doesn't need any more than three days to achieve anything, especially such a trivial-"

"Jack," Elizabeth interrupted him, the tenderness gone from her voice once again. Jack twitched his nose, and pouted. "That... god of time or whoever he was didn't say anything about how many days we have to find somebody to stab the heart," she said, studying his face intently.

"I figured he might have had less than three days in mind," Jack risked a small smile, but Elizabeth was not smiling at all.

Jack' ooked away in search of some believable explanation, but then his eyes widened at the sight of one of his drawings sitting in a chair by the window.

Elizabeth turned around, following his gaze, and bit back a smile, trying to retain a menacing tone of voice: "This is yer another matter to discuss," she said, grabbing the drawing and lifting it in front of Jack's face. "What is that?! What if my father would see it? What if... he saw it?" she asked, suddenly struck by the suspicion that sent cold shivers up her spine.

"Well, technically we're married, so-" started Jack with a smile.

"We're married _now_, but we weren't married when you draw it! And what if my father would think that," she bit her lip in embarrassment, "that you drew what you actually saw," she concluded, blushing not so much at the idea, but at the smirk on Jack's face.

"I did see it," he said, taking the drawing out of her hand, and putting it away. "In my mind's eye," he whispered, closing his arms around her, and leaning down to kiss her.

"There are hundreds of them," whispered Elizabeth with an impish smile, breaking the kiss. Jack tried to look clueless as to what she had meant, but Elizabeth continued, wrapping her arms around his neck. "The drawings. There are so many of them," she said in such a sweet voice, that he forgot all about their discussion, the enemy's fleet gaining on them, Beckett, Jones, Calypso, Chronos... and just kissed her, swept her into his arms, and threw her onto the bed, never breaking the kiss...

...at least not until somebody knocked politely on the open door...

"I'm sorry to interrupt," Gibbs called from the main cabin, his back diplomatically turned to the door, "but-"

His voice got lost in the cannon fire that suddenly reverberated outside, causing Jack and Elizabeth to exchange more disappointed than anxious looks, and quickly stagger to their feet.


	51. Chapter 51

A/N: **...I decided to be nice and not leave the story at a terrible cliffhanger;) I hope to see you all again in September! Thank you so much for reading and for all the fantastic reviews! They make my life THAT MUCH happier! :)**

Disclaimer: PotC belong to Disney. The quote toward the end belongs to William Shakespeare (Hamlet, act 1, scene 5)

**Chapter 51**

"Load the cannons!"

Jack stopped abruptly in his tracks widening his eyes at James Norrington.

"Mister Gibbs. I'm surprised ye can just watch somebody ordering me crew around and do nothing about it," said Jack in a voice loud enough to cause James to turn and face him.

Gibbs opened his mouth to speak, but James cut him off. "Well, somebody has to be giving orders here, Captain," he said with a hint of sarcasm in his voice, glancing at Jack and Elizabeth's hands clasped together so tightly, that their knuckles were nearly white.

"I do appreciate you volunteering for the position, but I assure you it's already quite successfully occupied," said Jack with a small, artificial smile.

"Occupied yes, well-handled no," answered James wryly, causing Jack to narrow his eyes at him.

"What's happening?" asked Elizabeth, interrupting Jack to deliver a pointy reply by brushing the back of her hand over his lips in a gesture that was so unusual, even though it seemed very casual, the way she had done it, that James found it hard to understand why it made him feel so strange.

"They'd started firing on us, then they'd stopped, then fired again, and now stopped. Again," explained James, a trace of an artificial smile flickered across his lips. "They seem to have problems with deciding just what it is exactly that they would like to do to your ship, Captain Sparrow."

"Or we have problems with deciphering what it is that they're already doing," countered Jack, heading for the helm.

James watched curiously as Elizabeth followed Jack, not appearing to be bothered by him nearly dragging her with him, hands intertwined; inseparable. He had known Elizabeth for over twelve years, and he would have never dared to treat her with such bluntness. He had been reverent about a few walks they had had, her hand laced through his arm. And yet she had almost always seemed uncomfortable, as if it limited her freedom, somehow, her independence. She was always happier to walk on her own. And now she seemed perfectly content with being limited to going wherever that man wanted her to go.

Or perhaps... it was just a coincidence... maybe they just wanted to go in the same direction, he thought as he watched Jack lean toward Elizabeth, whisper something in her ear, and kiss her on the cheek. She smiled, and kissed his cheek in return, and then...

And then they both stopped walking as Will Turner suddenly appeared in front of them.

* * *

He watched the silver dust falling over an elderly man in a dimly lit room. The scent of the candles in the air was mixed with the scent of some spices he vaguely remembered, but would not be able to name. Several people knelt by the bed, a man, a woman, several children... Nobody cried, nobody screamed. Whispered words of prayers hung in the air hovering over the dying man.

Turning around, he went away. He had never stayed for too long. He did not care for the stories behind every death, he did not care to wait long enough to see whether people would grieve for a long time, or rather surreptitiously sigh with relief. He would not be able to carry all the stories tied to the lives of all the people he had seen... all the people whose lives he had taken away... In his mind, sorrow held a taste similar to happiness, and it was impossible to tell where one ended and the other began... they were both _one _emotion with two sides... And he neither knew which side was better, nor saw any reason to find out... Everything was so blank, no matter how hard he tried to see different colors around him... There were no colors. He did not remember any (except for the colors of clouds...), and now it was all the same, an endless sequence of deaths, plain and colorless, always leaving him unaffected, maybe only a little bit _colder_, sliding a little bit further away from his conviction that...

Back in a dark room, he sat down, and stared at his hands, in silence.

Did he really want it to go on? What was so enticing about immortality if it only meant the overwhelming nothingness closing around him, strangling him with its grey hands that felt cold against his heart, even if they could not reach it, because it was dead...

It was dead, wasn't it?

He closed his eyes, and shuddered at the sudden range of colors that sprung to his mind, ribbons of memories taking him miles away from darkness, and into the light...

There was a thousand of colors in _her_, millions of dreams, thoughts, and feelings flowing from that irresistible passion to _live_. Why did she want to live so much? What was so precious about life? His own memories could not provide him a good enough answer to that question... He had never valued his life too high... Perhaps that was what made him hope that death was worth more, than the eternity of watching people's lives come to an end would give _him_ a reason to _be_.

But it did not. Both life and death held no promises for him anymore. Both life and death was purposeless. Everything was purposeless, except...

Except for her.

If he was to invent, discover, find one reason to live, to die... One reason to do _anything_ – it would be her.

He opened his eyes with a small smile.

A mere memory of her had more colors than his life – and his death - had ever had.

* * *

Jack glanced right and left and up at the sky, as if trying to track the way from which Will had come. "You just keep coming back, invited or not, don't you?" said Jack with a brief smile, hoping that Will would not mention his deal with Jones. He did not need Elizabeth to know how little time they really had to get out of that entire situation.

Elizabeth felt a wave of guilt washing over her at the sudden realization that it was the first time she saw Will since she had asked him to let her talk to Jack in Shipwreck Cove... And then he had probably learned that she had married Jack after she was gone... She had never told him that... her feelings had changed. She had just left him without a word of explanation. Of course the main reason for that was that she had not had much time back then... The dawn was approaching, and she had wanted to spend as much time as possible with Jack. Still... she felt that she had done wrong by him. He had deserved to know the truth from her.

"I'm glad you're alright, Elizabeth," said Will in a low voice, ignoring Jack's remark and shifting his eyes to her. He really was relieved that they were back already, that Jack had brought Elizabeth back as he had promised, and that she was well. He tried not to think about the rest, about her hand in Jack's, about how she had smiled a moment ago, kissing Jack on the cheek, smiling so brightly as if there was nothing more she could possibly need to be happy.

"Thank you," whispered Elizabeth, biting her lip, feeling Jack's grip on her hand tighten. She wanted to squeeze his hand in response, but then she thought that he deserved some punishment for locking her up below, so instead of doing any reassuring gestures, she let go of his hand, trying not to smile at the way his entire body stiffened at that.

"Yer place is in the brig, Turner," Pintel's voice broke into the conversation when he and Ragetti, having recovered from their surprise at the sight of Will, rushed to him, grabbing him by the shoulders and trying to drag him away.

"What are you doing?" exclaimed Elizabeth, sincerely puzzled, not noticing a flash of emotion on Jack's face.

"He stole the _Pearl_," explained Ragetti, struggling to retain his hold on Will who quickly snatched himself away from the two pirates.

"Stole the _Pearl_?" Elizabeth wrinkled her forehead in puzzlement.

"Belay that!" Jack raised his hand when Pintel and Ragetti grabbed Will once again.

They froze, and looked at Jack expectantly.

"I'd like to have my coat back," said Jack with a twitch of his nose, looking Will up and down disapprovingly. Whatever he meant by wearing his clothes?! "And me hat," he added, squinting.

Will rolled his eyes with a sigh, threw the hat at Jack, then shook the coat off his shoulders, and threw it at Jack as well. Jack briefly inspected both pieces of garment before putting them on, and then shifted his eyes to Pintel and Ragetti.

"Now ye can take him to the brig," he said with a complacent smile.

Will did not even have the time to react when he was grabbed by his arms once again.

"Jack!" Elizabeth widened her eyes at Jack meaningfully, but he ignored her.

"If I won't return to the _Endeavor_, Beckett will become suspicious. He thinks you're dead," said Will in a steely voice, even though he was only mildly surprised by the lack of gratitude for his earlier help with Jack's plan and for making sure that he could make it work by assuring that his body was thrown to the sea rather than taken to land.

"He sent ye here? Only one more reason to lock ye in the brig, mate," said Jack, studying his face intently.

Elizabeth glanced at Jack curiously wondering if it was really possible that he was still jealous of Will, after all that had happened, after she had married him.

A memory of their wedding ceremony, of them running across the town, spinning around on the beach... sprung to her mind, and she smiled inwardly wishing that they could have at last some time alone together, and then they could talk about everything... recall what they had gone through... relive-

"Jack!"

Elizabeth shook off her thoughts at the sound of Gibbs' voice.

"They signaled..." Gibbs scratched his forehead. "They want to negotiate, it seems," he said with an uncertain expression on his face.

"Negotiate," James shook his head with a snort. "Parley again?"

Jack wrinkled his forehead, finding it suddenly very annoying that all those ex-fiances were for some reason scattered all around his ship.

"They outnumber us to the extent that makes even an idea of negotiations ridiculous," said James, glancing at Governor Swann who at that moment approached the group.

"Aye. No doubt they've something on their minds, an' whatever it is, it bodes ill-" started Gibbs, but Jack cut him off.

"Mister Gibbs, load the cannons as the King so thoughtfully suggested," he said glancing at James, who looked heavenward with a sigh, "and do spare us the necessity to appreciate yer discernment skills at the moment."

"Aye," Gibbs nodded with a smile, and scurried off, shouting orders to the crew.

"Don't you want to see what they want?" asked Will, furrowing his brows, trying to block the pain that he felt at the sight of Elizabeth, every minute making him feel worse instead of better, all the memories, good and bad rushing back to him, reminding him of what was irretrievably lost, lost forever.

"I know what they want," said Jack complacently. "They want to blow holes in my ship," he said with a pout, grabbing Elizabeth's hand, and marching off toward the helm. He really should not have been forced to do this. _She _should have grabbed his hand.

"Jack, I think-" Elizabeth began tentatively, but trailed off when he spun around.

"Anywhere else ye'd like to be at the moment, luv?" asked Jack in a low voice, dark eyes boring into hers challengingly.

Elizabeth widened her eyes at him. Was he threatening to lock her up?! Again?! "I can't even say what I think?!" she exclaimed, trying to free her hand from his grasp. "Am I to be kept below unless I remain perfectly silent _and _compliant?!" she snapped with growing irritation.

"That's not what I meant," said Jack through his gritted teeth, pulling her closer.

She stomped her foot, refusing to move, and grimacing slightly at Jack's tightening grip on her hand. She would have bruises, but she did not care. She would not let him- She blinked, suddenly acknowledging what he had said.

"So what did you mean?" she asked, oblivious to the fact that her tone of voice was attracting more and more attention.

"I meant that if you want to fight by somebody else's side, it might be advisable to inform me about it now," he said, stepping closer, his eyes fixed on her.

Elizabeth wrinkled her forehead in confusion, but then understanding dawned on her, and she had to bit her lip to suppress a smile. "Well, as a matter of fact I would like to be somewhere else right now indeed," she said in a firm voice, her hand relaxing in his.

"And where would that be?" asked Jack, mocking interest, his eyes darker than ever, and yet so warm, so familiar... She had missed his eyes not only when he was not with her. She missed his eyes even when he merely looked away, looked at something other than her. It was as if her life was in his eyes, and she felt most alive when he looked at her.

"Oh, I think you know," she said, allowing herself to smile at last, and quickly closing the space between them, her lips pressing softly against his, her free hand raising to his face to cup his cheek.

He smiled against her mouth, sliding his arms around her and pulling her closer. "I'm sorry," he muttered, brushing his lips against hers repeatedly.

"That's alright," Elizabeth wrapped her arms around his neck. "I like when you're mad at me for making you jealous," she chuckled, kissing his upper lip and then his lower one.

"I guess too many of my memories of you come from the past," he answered quietly, his hands gliding up her back. "I wish we could-"

"I actually agree with Mr. Turner. We should hear what they have to say before opening fire."

Jack and Elizabeth jumped at the sound of James' resolute voice. To Elizabeth's embarrassment, when she turned her head she noticed not only James, but also her father and Will standing nearby.

"You make me forget about the entire world," she whispered to Jack with half-hearted annoyance.

"And you make me remember about every inch of you when you're standing that close," he whispered back, keeping her locked in his arms when she tried to step out of his embrace.

Elizabeth exhaled frustratingly. "Jack-"

He hugged her briefly, but very strongly before letting go.

"Very well. Signal for them that we're willing to talk," said Jack cheerfully, flashing James a smile. "But I don't want to see more than two people from that sordid fleet aboard my ship. Mr. Gibbs!" he called looking around the deck.

"Aye!" Gibbs quickly approached them.

"Make sure they don't bring any mud, slush, seaweed, or any other grimy substance on their boots. Savvy?" Jack looked at Gibbs so intently, that even if his words might not have caught Gibbs' attention, his gaze would.

"Savvy," nodded Gibbs unconvincingly, trying to decipher Jack's request, but feeling temporarily at loss of ideas.

"Take yer time making sure they won't make the deck dirty," said Jack, widening his eyes at Gibbs, who was beginning to look frustrated.

"Aye, I will-" he said hesitatingly, but then the comprehension flashed in his eyes. "Aye, aye! 'Course I will!" he said with a wink.

Elizabeth looked between Jack and Gibbs confusedly.

"Let's go, luv. We don't want to be dressed in all those drenched clothes when they come, aye?" said Jack in a loud voice, and then motioned Elizabeth toward the stairs, before anybody had a chance to say anything.

"Jack-" Elizabeth started when they stepped below, but he hushed her, continuing to walk quickly toward the Captain's Quarters.

Once they were inside, Jack slammed the door shut, and the next thing she knew were his lips on her cheeks, her lips, her neck; his hands cradling her face, sliding down her sides, gliding upwards and cupping her breasts.

"This is madness," she breathed, tilting her head backwards with a grin, her hands clutching his shoulders.

"Might be a long fight, darlin'," he whispered, brushing his lips over her collarbones, pulling her shirt over her head. "And leaving the _Pearl_ in the middle of the battle might upset her. She gets quite jealous on certain occasions, you know."

Elizabeth laughed, helping him to shrug off his coat. "I get jealous on _all _occasions, just so you know," she said, trailing soft kisses along the sides of his face.

"Me too," whispered Jack with a roguish smile, sliding his hand into her hair, and ruffling it slightly, looking in wonder at her gold tresses falling through his dark fingers.

Elizabeth giggled, capturing his lips in a fierce kiss, but breaking it quickly. "Lock the door," she said breathlessly, nestling her face in the crook of his neck. "I'm afraid I might shoot whoever would interrupt us now," she said with a smile, nuzzling his skin.

Jack reached for the lock, closing it with one hand, his other hand wrapped around Elizabeth's waist. "My sentiments exactly," he said in an amused tone of voice, his smile fading and turning into a thoughtful expression as he cradled his wife's face in his hands, and slowly pressed a flaring kiss to her lips.

* * *

Beckett regarded the longboat with wary eyes, deciding at last to step into it, a grimace of discontentment written on his face. However having the choice of swinging onto the other ship on a rope, and swimming toward it in a longboat... he had to choose the latter option.

The soldiers seemed surprised that the battle was put on hold in favor of the unexpected negotiations, and the uncertain, puzzled looks they were exchanging with each other annoyed Lord Cutler Beckett to no end.

They had to return to Port Royal, and he had no intention of coming to any agreements with those pirates. He was going to endow them with a last chance, give them time to surrender, knowing well that they would not do it, although he would not mind being proved wrong in that particular assumption of his; on the contrary, that would solve quite a number of problems... But it was not going to happen, and therefore there was no reason to think about that.

As the longboat was pushed away from the side of the ship, he looked up meeting Mercer's cool gaze, and exchanging a barely perceptible nod with him.

The plan was short and simple, and hopefully they would be shortly on their way back to Port Royal, and then he would decide what to do about Jones' heart, whether he should bring the chest to him as he had requested him to? Or rather... should he find somebody who would be willing to replace Jones and keep loyal to the East India Trading Company. That was an infinitely better option, for it would simplify the relations with the _Flying Dutchman_, turning unwilling services into willing business transactions. How hard could it be to find a man greedy enough to accept that strange kind of immortality and sail among the dead, cooperate with the living, eliminate the unworthy creatures from the face of the Earth?

Beckett smiled to himself complacently. It could not be hard at all.

He shifted his eyes to the _Black Pearl_, the ship bringing back many unpleasant memories. The betrayal, the defeat... But none of it was going to happen again. Now all there was left was to see the pain in the eyes of somebody for whom Jack Sparrow had cared. With him dead, it was the only possibility of revenge left, and he was not, for more than one reason, going to let it pass.

_Fate intervenes, indeed._

* * *

His hands could stop the time, she was certain they could.

If he would only want them to, they could stop everything, create everything, set everything on fire. He slowly slid his coarse palms along the sides of her body, and she felt as if his hands were shaping her, as if his touch was making her real.

She reached for him impatiently, trembling fingertips rushing across his chest, over his shoulders, palms splayed on his back, pulling him closer, his lips trailing a flaming path down her body. She tilted her head to the side, burying it in the pillow, his scent lingering on the fabric, and she smiled to herself thinking the word 'home' and repeating his name over and over again until it faded away in the smoldering heat of his kisses, his lips on hers, gentle and uneven, dry from the sun, sharpened by the winds and the rum, so comforting, and yet so dangerous, for they were tossing and turning her every thought, and suddenly nothing was true, nothing was real, there was nothing she wished to be real except for his hands on her skin that seemed so lost wandering across her chest, over her stomach, along her thighs... She cradled his face in her hands, and kissed him fiercely on the mouth, his lips parting with a smile when she tried to taste every crevice she could reach...

"Every night will be like this one," he whispered, the back of his hand brushing her cheek, his eyes dark and glittering above her.

She smiled, outlining his lips with her fingertips, her hands so warm on his face, that he thought she would leave burning marks on his skin.

"But it's afternoon now, Jack," she whispered with a smile, shifting underneath him, gasping at the contact of his body fitting against hers as if it was made for her alone.

He leaned into her touch with smile, leaning down and capturing her lips in between his, nibbling on her lower lip until he felt her holding onto his desperately, nails scratching against his back in sweet helplessness.

"It's every moment of time in the world," he whispered into her ear, his hands on her hips, her waist, gliding higher, his eyes fixed on her, enthralled and enthralling, his words and kisses falling over her like dreams, cold like snowflakes, hot like flickers of fire that travelled from the top of her head to her tiptoes, up and down, the incessant torment ignited by him, his mouth over hers, again and again, his kisses delicate and feverish, soft and hard, hesitant and firm like his hands on her skin when she felt his hips raise for a moment, before the stars crashed down on her, night and day swirling in the air, suns and moons dancing behind her eyelids, his touch holding the universe of her heart in place, setting it aflame with every kiss pressed to her lips, her cheeks, her breasts...

The ship rocked on the waves, and she wondered whether another storm was raging outside, for suddenly the waves were wild and high, thunders flashing around her, her face wet from the rain, and she smiled at the sound of his strained, concerned voice, shaking her head and smiling to assure him that those tears streaming down her face were good and bright, and sweet, but he did not believe her until he drank them from her face, her smiles casting the shadows aside, and once again there was only the sun above them, between them, stars bursting into flames, moons changing colors, shivering rainbows outstretched over their heads, lips sealed together, bodies entwined, never to be separated again.

"I just missed you." The words flowed in the air like transparent clouds dispersing in the radiating heat, and there were other words as well, whispered fervently, quietly, desperate and tender, lost and found like their lips crashing against each other's in frantic exhilaration.

And suddenly the darkness was gone. All her dark memories, the feeling of helplessness, all those moments when she had felt that they could have never been together again, all the deaths she had seen... the life she had been forced to take... that little boy's eyes that she had thought would have haunted her forever... Jack's eyes – recurring nightmare of her losing him, of his life coming to an end because of her... Suddenly it was all muffled, it was all fading away into the tranquility of her memories. The ghosts of the past could not reach her. Not when she was in his arms, his hands shielding her from the world.

"You're my treasure, my silver and gold," he whispered, his breath warm on her skin, his voice soothing, his lips curled up in a knowing smirk.

She did not open her eyes, only smiled at him brightly, pulling him into a kiss.

"I thought I lost you," she whispered with her lips on his shoulder, his face buried in her hair, the sea rolling underneath them, faster and faster, tempest after tempest passing through them, pulling them higher and higher until there was only the endlessness of light everywhere, flaring and blazing, and his lips found hers once more before light and darkness clashed against each other drowning them in the oceans of colors and each other's shuddering arms.

* * *

"May I see yer boots, sir?" after inspecting the boots of Beckett's guard that he had taken with him, Gibbs addressed Beckett himself, despite his eyes glaring daggers at him in an unsettlingly calm manner for the last quarter of an hour.

"What is the point of this?" asked Beckett, through his clenched teeth, glancing at the Governor Swann and James who stood nearby watching the scene in silence.

Will had gone below to help with the cannons, thinking that it would be better not to reveal to Beckett his presence on the _Black Pearl_ too soon. All he knew was that Will had intended to go on the _Black Pearl _to ensure Elizabeth's safety. But he did not need to know that he had made it. He could have likely drowned in the storm, and from what he had learnt so far it was always good to keep an element of surprise at the ready. After all, the battle could ensue at any moment, no matter the honest or not so honest intentions to negotiate.

"The point is not to make the ship's deck dirty," answered Gibbs politely.

"It's already dirty," replied Beckett in an annoyed tone of voice.

"No, it's not." Everybody's eyes darted to Ragetti, who swallowed uncomfortably at the sudden shift of attention. "I washed it," he said, blinking. "Before the storm," he added quietly.

"'Course it's not dirty!" agreed Pintel, frowning at Beckett, who glanced at the guard next to him, wordlessly requesting him to do something about the situation, but the man seemed too engrossed in listening to pirates to notice.

James sighed, trying to keep himself from breaking into the conversation. He did not know exactly what was the point of Gibbs' stalling for time, but he knew that there must have been a reason behind it. Perhaps Sparrow was planning something. Well, obviously he was planning something, as there was no other reason for which Gibbs might have been conducting his ridiculous inspection.

As James tried to guess what Jack could have been planning, he was suddenly struck by a very unpleasant suspicion. But it just seemed too ridiculous... At a time like this. The situation was serious, and surely even Captain Jack Sparrow could not possibly-

But then he recalled the look in Elizabeth's eyes, and... he was not entirely sure what he would do if she was his wife and she looked at him like that...

* * *

"Lizzie?" Elizabeth snuggled closer into Jack and opened her eyes. "We have to-"

"I know," she interrupted him softly, running her fingertips across his cheek.

"I'm sorry 'bout this," he said with a frown. "I don't want you to feel-"

She kissed him and smiled. "There are many more morning and evenings-"

"And afternoons," he turned his head and kissed her palm.

"And afternoons," she kissed his lips again, "to come when we'll be able to stay like this for hours."

"For days," Jack narrowed his eyes at her suggestively.

She giggled, and sat up, her hair cascading over her shoulders, the rays of the sun coming through the window and illuminating the strands of her hair. "And weeks and months and years," she said, sliding off the bed, grabbing his hands, and pulling him with her. "But now we have to go."

"Aye," Jack sneaked his arm around her waist, and pulled her into an embrace with a sigh. "How about one more kiss?"

"Just one more?" Elizabeth widened her eyes at him, placing her hands on his shoulders.

"Two more, then," he said with a smirk.

Elizabeth bit her lip, pretending to be deep in thought for a moment. "Two and a half!" she proposed after a pause.

"Three and a half, and I will get ye dressed with me own hands," said Jack, brushing his lips against hers.

Elizabeth laughed. "Agreed," she said smilingly, leaning into him when he kissed her. "But only if you let me get you dressed with my own hands as well," she said, trying to twirl one of his dreadlocks around her finger.

"I'm afraid I have to refuse," said Jack with a mockingly sad facial expression.

"Why?" Elizabeth crossed her arms over her chest, looking at him expectantly, amusement sparkling in her eyes.

"Because that would make us stay here for the next several hours," answered Jack, sifting her hair through his fingers. "And as you've rightly pointed out we should be going. Gibbs must be running out of ideas already, and a frustrated first mate is always a certain source of trouble."

Elizabeth cupped Jack's face in her hands with a smile. "I love you, Jack," she whispered after looking at him for a moment in silence.

He grinned. "Ye underestimate me insight, luv, if ye think I haven't noticed that yet." Elizabeth smacked him playfully on the chest, but then he roughly pulled her toward him, pressing his cheek to hers, and closing his eyes. "I love you too, 'Lizbeth," he whispered in a barely audible, ardent voice, and Elizabeth wrapped her arms around his neck and closed her eyes as well, wishing for that one moment to last forever.

* * *

"I won't be doing it," said Beckett irritatedly, not even looking at Ragetti who was handing him a rag.

"Wipin' the boots won't take long," said Ragetti reassuringly, but Beckett did not move, clasping his hands behind his back.

"I'm beginning to regret ever entertaining the idea of negotiating anything with the people who-"

"Who value cleanliness so high? I have to say I'm quite disappointed. I actually thought that it might make a good impression, seeing how you care for the conspicuous neatness of your inconspicuous uniforms..."

Beckett blinked, his eyes widening slightly at the sight of Jack who emerged from below the deck.

"It's not possible," muttered Beckett, his lips barely moving.

"There are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in your philosophy," said Ragetti in a serious tone of voice.

Pintel rolled his eyes and sighed. "Stop quotin' the Bible all the time!" he hissed, shaking his head in irritation.

"It ain't from the Bible," protested Ragetti, receiving an annoyed look from Pintel. "Somebody from my family wrote it," he added with a shrug in such a low voice, that only Pintel could hear him.


	52. Chapter 52

A/N: _**Thank you so much for all the amazing reviews! **_**:)**

...I'M BACK!! lol Thank you so much for waiting an entire month for this chapter! It feels good to be back:) I missed you all very, very, very much!! :)

...& I'm very happy to have so many chapter/story alerts in my e-mails! I can't wait to read them all! I promise to catch up with everything as soon as possible! :)

Disclaimer: Jack, Elizabeth, etc. belong to Disney.

**Chapter 52**

"They ain't want to clean their boots," complained Ragetti, when Jack joined the group gathered on deck.

Jack shot him a wary look, glancing at Gibbs who gave him a shrug and a small smile in return. "I'll... take care of... that," said Jack taking the rag from Ragetti, tilting his head backwards and regarding it for a moment with narrowed eyes, before throwing it on Pintel who caught the rag with a grimace.

Jack dismissed the two pirates with a wave of his hand, and James accidentally noticed a few single strands of gold hair caught in one of Jack's rings. He averted his eyes with a frown, spotting Elizabeth who just emerged from below the deck, hair tied up with some - apparently dirty – bandanna. Not for the first time he wondered how it was possible that she preferred that kind of life to the life of quiet mornings in a sunny parlor, the scent of coffee and fresh bread lingering in the air... As much as his opinion about Jack Sparrow might have improved over the course of recent events, the comfort that Elizabeth seemed to find in his arms - and in his world - was still somewhat puzzling to him.

"You're dead," said Beckett in a low voice, looking at Jack with mixture of amazement, anger, and fear.

"I _was _dead," corrected Jack. "Twice," he added with a complacent smile.

"Two times too less," retorted Beckett coolly, slowly regaining his composure, although a part of his mind was still exclusively focused on a frantic search for some logical explanation as to how it was possible that the man whose lifeless body he had watched disappear under the water surface was now standing before him.

"Two times too much."

Jack glanced over his shoulder, his eyes meeting Elizabeth's steady gaze. Despite telling her to stay below, this time he had not expected her to actually listen to him. But it did not stop him from shooting her a half-heartedly menacing, warning look. She bit back a smile, and looked away, her eyes so bright that they immediately caught Governor Swann's attention, reminding him of when she and Jack had run out of the Great Chamber in Shipwreck Cove. And as back then, right now he was also caught between the feelings of joy and worry at the sight of that gleeful, childish look of happiness on his daughter's face.

"Mrs. Sparrow, isn't it?" Beckett addressed her, causing Jack to shift his eyes back to him.

"It is," answered Elizabeth haughtily taking her place next to Jack and lacing her hand through his arm, the movement that seemed to be the manifestation of her feelings, but as she acknowledged in the back of her mind, it was more like a protective gesture at the moment, and she felt a gust of anxiety at her subconscious prediction.

"May I congratulate you?" Beckett's lips curled up into a faint sneer, an idea slowly forming in his mind, its simplicity and efficiency beginning to brighten his mood. There was no situation that could not be taken advantage of, after all.

"Perhaps we could rather discuss the reason for this uncalled for meeting."

Beckett turned his head regarding James Norrington, who had spoken the words, with cool well-concealed annoyance.

"And then we could proceed to niceties," added James, suddenly understanding Jack Sparrow's tendency to annoy people. It was apparently not only useful but also, in some odd way, entertaining.

Governor Swann glanced at James, before returning his gaze to the man who by interrupting his daughter's wedding all those months ago, had unconsciously steered his life into the most bizarre direction. And that man appeared as calm and complacent as ever, his initial surprise at finding Jack Sparrow alive replaced promptly by a guarded expression that could either mask irritation, or something decidedly more dangerous.

"I'm in no position to disagree with the King," said Jack with a small bow of his head that Elizabeth found quite hilarious. She looked at Jack from under her eyelashes, her eyes sweeping over his face, the face that she had kissed so recently, his shoulders that she had clutched tightly just mere moments ago, his hands- She forced herself to look away in order not to do something stupid. She doubted that any amount of rum could ever put her in such a mental state as looking at her husband for a few brief moments always could.

"You are all in no position to give orders," observed Beckett dryly, his eyes almost absently noticing Elizabeth's fingers curling around Jack's forearm, her ivory skin looking pale against his. He wondered whether they were so certain of their fighting abilities, or rather so foolish to believe they stood a chance against the Company's fleet, or perhaps... their feelings for each other were making them _slightly_ too careless, too carefree. He smiled to himself, retaining his stony facial expression.

"And yet here you are listening to them," said Jack narrowing his eyes in a brief smile, his eyes flickering to Beckett's boots, his fingers closing around Elizabeth's hand which slowly slid into his. It felt so comforting to hold her hand, he thought, trying to focus on the meeting that undoubtedly was only a falsely tranquil beginning of something perilous. But somehow his thoughts kept refusing to run into the direction of East India Trading Company, and kept coming back to a pair of smooth hands cradling his face, warm lips granting him sweet, ardent kisses, his wife's hair falling softly over his shoulder when she snuggled closer to him...

"A proposition not worth answering?" Beckett's mildly irritated voice suddenly made Jack aware of the fact that he had apparently missed something that had just been said. He glanced at Elizabeth, hoping that she had heard what had been said and was perhaps going to say something herself, but she looked equally clueless, her fingers laced with his, and the rhythm of her breathing, although only slightly quickened, uneven enough to let him know that her thoughts had been elsewhere as well.

"A proposition at least as acceptable as suspicious," said James, shooting a flatly incredulous look at the pair, not knowing whether their behaviour was more amusing or more infuriating, while it was unquestionably irresponsible, even though they were really not doing anything apart from holding each other's hands. Although of course it was not a casual behaviour of people who were supposed to be carrying out war negotiations. It was clear that they were not in perfect control of their concentration abilities at the moment, and for some reason he felt responsible for saving the situation. _Pirate King_, he thought with an inward snort. _First edict: no hands holding during war negotiations._

"Suspicious?" Beckett raised his eyebrows. "And if I could be informed what is so suspicious in asking for assistance in search for somebody to replace Jones?"

Jack and Elizabeth looked at Beckett as if he grew another head, which clearly indicated that they had not heard him before. Governor Swann wrinkled his forehead and sighed, only very slightly amused by the expression on their faces. It did not bode well that they were so unable to focus on the reality around them, as disarming as it was.

"Oh, it's just hard to believe that your collaboration is not successful," said James with an artificial half-smile. "One would think that you should get along spectacularly well, with all the views and personal features that you share," he added matter-of-factly.

Elizabeth bit back a smile, while Jack arched an eyebrow. "Is it just me, or is he trying to be as charming as a certain other person that I know rather personally for a considerably long amount of time?" he asked in a barely audible whisper, tilting his head toward Elizabeth. She pressed her lips together to avoid bursting out laughing.

"It's an impossible task, and I'm sure James is sensible enough to know it," she answered quietly without looking at him, and trying to breathe as shallowly as possible. His scent, his closeness was beginning to blur her mind, and although she found that strange state of dizziness exhilarating, she knew that the moment for such emotions was right now less than not opportune.

"If he was sensible, he wouldn't be here in the first place," answered Jack, repeatedly tightening and loosening his grip on Elizabeth's hand. It seemed almost unreal that he felt so gleeful simply because he held her hand in his, as if there was nothing else he needed to be happy. It was a dangerous state, and he knew it, and yet all those wonderfully soothing little gestures were so intoxicating that he found it difficult to care for the consequences as long as she was standing next to him, as long as the taste of her lips was lingering on his lips as if she was still kissing him, soft gusts of wind blowing loose strands of her hair into his face, taking his mind off their current situation at an instant.

"Are you implying that I'm not sensible?" inquired Elizabeth in a pretendedly surprised tone of voice, holding back a smile.

The Governor observed them with cautious nervousness, wondering whether they were really not aware that everyone was aware of their whispered conversation even if their words remained inaudible. Perhaps they were deliberately trying to show Beckett their lack of interest in what he was saying?, he thought hopefully, but without much conviction.

"Is there any chance we could join the discussion?" asked Beckett with slight impatience, his plan clarifying in his mind, and becoming more and more appealing and promising as he watched with condescending distaste the haziness in the newlyweds' eyes. _It is going to be so easy..._

"We were just saying that this wig doesn't fit your face at all," blurted out Jack so quickly and in such a certain, casual voice that Elizabeth could not suppress a smile.

Beckett's face did not even twitch. "One order and this ship along with all the others will become only a pitiful debris among the waves," he said coldly after a pause in a low tone of voice, his eyes fixed on Jack.

Jack smiled. "One order and yer wig becomes only a pitiful... wig among the waves," he said, his eyes turning serious as they flickered to something behind him, but before Beckett turned his head he heard the guard that accompanied him gasp, and then he felt a cold barrel being pressed to the back of his head. "This is your best entrance yet, mate," said Jack, when Will glanced at him, his breathing uneven from the effort of making his way from the bow of the ship all the way to where they were now, using only his hands for support, and hanging above the ocean surface until finally climbing over the railing right behind Beckett.

"In other words you apologize for intending to lock me in the brig?" asked Will doubtfully.

Jack smiled. "And a bit more than a year ago they were all surly and crabbed," he whispered to Elizabeth. "Very funny," he called to Will with a hint of reassurance in his voice.

Elizabeth kept a smile off her face, her fingers intertwined with Jack's. She tried very hard to get rid of her sudden urge to drag him away from here, throw her arms around him, and kiss him madly until he could not remember his own name – or even his title - anymore.

"This is not a wise move, Mr. Turner," said Beckett in a calm voice, finding the barrel digging into his skin more irritating than threatening.

"Is this one wiser?" asked Will, cocking the pistol.

"He did make some progress," admitted Jack under his breath with a twitch of his nose. "If we may continue our so well began negotiations," he said in a louder tone with a wave of his hand, stepping toward Beckett, Elizabeth's hand still clasped in his.

The Governor glanced at their hands entwined together and then looked up at their faces with pensive, observant eyes. They were going to get themselves in trouble. Sooner or later they were going to get themselves in trouble, but he was not going to just let that happen. Turning his eyes away from them, Governor Swann focused on Beckett trying to decipher his motifs and schemes well-hidden behind his perfectly composed, coolly calm face.

"You are surrounded and outnumbered," said Beckett flatly, looking around the gathering disinterestedly. "What is the point to threaten me in such circumstances?" he asked with a glint of ironic satisfaction in his eyes.

"What is the point of negotiating with the losing side, then?" asked Elizabeth through her slightly gritted teeth, causing Jack to blink several times to clear his mind from the spell immediately created by her voice that ignited a hundred emotions in him, none of them helpful at the moment, unfortunately. If he did not know better, he would think that she was some supernatural creature sent into his life from heaven. Or rather... sent to make his life heaven, he mused with an inward smirk.

Beckett snorted under his breath. "I already explained that, Mrs. Sparrow," he said tilting his head to the side, regarding Elizabeth with pale, blue eyes. "I do not want Jones to command the _Flying Dutchman_ and I'm asking you to provide me with an acceptable candidate for the position in exchange for the letters of marque for all of you and the _Black Pearl_ gaining, or... regaining," he corrected himself, shifting his eyes to Jack for a moment, "her status as a merchant ship."

Jack knitted his eyebrows, reluctantly adding another piece to his already half-collapsing puzzle. Davy Jones wanted his heart back in three days. Calypso wanted the heart to be delivered to her, while the god of time wanted the heart to be stabbed by somebody who could replace Jones and take better care of the dead. And now Beckett also wanted the heart to be stabbed. _Two votes for yer thump-thump to be stabbed, mate. Seems like ye've been outvoted_, thought Jack humorlessly. Stabbing the heart before the three days were over was going to automatically nullify Jones' demand, however... However there was nothing that could obliterate Calypso and her request to have the heart delivered to her. Jack's eyebrows furrowed in thought as he tried to solve the tangled problem in his head. The ideal solution would be if Calypso stabbed the heart, he thought slightly annoyed by the fact that that perfect solution was unfortunately not possible.

Or not probable, at least.

Elizabeth glanced at Jack curiously, wondering why he remained silent after Beckett's announcement. She lightly squeezed his hand, and his eyes flew to hers, and she smiled at the suspicion that he was distracted by his thoughts about her just like she had been distracted by her thoughts about him just a moment ago, but then she noticed a flash of genuine worry in his eyes. It was brief and it was promptly replaced by a smug half-smile, but she had noticed it nonetheless.

"William," Jack pointed his finger at Will who still stood with his gun pressed to Beckett's neck. Will's eyes shifted to him. "What do ye say to that?" asked Jack with fake cheerfulness.

Everybody's eyes focused on Will, who glanced around with cautious bafflement. "What do I say to what?" he asked after a moment of fruitless consideration.

Jack rolled his eyes. "Do you have the courage and fortitude to become the Captain of the _Flying Dutchman_ and stay true in the face of danger and the dead?" he asked with an expectant smile.

Will stared at him blankly for a moment, his eyes shifting to his father who was standing silently among the crew members gathered on the deck. "No" said Will not really knowing why, if his father was already rescued, Jack would think he wanted to captain the dreary vessel.

"Thought not," said Jack with slight disappointment.

Elizabeth shot him a half-amused, half-annoyed look.

"How about ye, Bill?" Jack addressed Bootstrap, who took a step forward. "Do ye feel like taking command of yer former prison? Might be an interesting experience."

"I think I've had enough of interesting experiences," replied Bill Turner with a warm smile.

Jack returned his smile, although he did not feel like smiling. Why everybody thought he was joking?! He looked around, his eyes stopping at James, but seeing his stern facial expression he dismissed the idea without voicing it. James observed him with decreasing patience, wondering, with a fair amount of sarcasm, whether there was a plan behind Jack's words, or if it was rather random words that Jack was saying in hope that they would form a plan all by themselves.

"Mr. Ragetti!" Jack exclaimed hopefully, directing everyone's attention at the pirate, who quickly pushed his eye in its place, and looked around uncertainly. "Would ye fancy a boat on yer own?"

Beckett exhaled slowly, beginning to grow annoyed by Jack's display.

Ragetti seemed to seriously consider the offer, but when Pintel elbowed him with an angry hiss that included words such as "dead" and "curse", he quickly shook his head. "N-no, Sir. I don't think I do," he said with a brief, nervous smile, straightening up.

Jack fluttered his fingers in the air, trying not to glare at Ragetti. His eyes rested on Pintel, but Pintel was already shaking his head vigorously, before anything was asked of him.

"Mr. Cotton!" Jack called, catching the sight of the elderly sailor and his constant companion added. "Mr. Cotton's... parrot!"

But before the parrot had a chance to answer, Beckett cut it off. "Oh for heaven's sake," he hissed, his irritation for a moment taking control over his usually stony face.

"I'm just trying to find ye a captain," said Jack with a shrug. "But I'm afraid-"

"I actually changed my mind," Beckett interrupted him, looking away absent-mindedly. His eyes scanned the horizon, and he made a move to raise his hand, but before he managed to do that, he suddenly fell unconscious to the deck, knocked out by Will's pistol. The guard that was accompanying Beckett reached for his weapon, but was immediately disarmed by two pirates who jumped at him from the side.

Jack shot Will a curious look.

"I thought he might want to give a sign to attack," he explained in a firm voice. "Or something like that," he added with less certainty.

Jack narrowed his eyes at him. "And what do you think they will do if he won't come back at all, eh?"

"At least now we have something to bargain with," answered Will putting his pistol away.

Jack glanced at Elizabeth, finding it rather annoying that she smiled.

"I think we'll need something more than one unconscious lord to make them listen to our demands."

Jack looked up, rolling his eyes in irritation at Barbossa's appearance. "And what are _you _doing here?"

Barbossa smiled. "I saw them come aboard, I thought I'd join the meeting."

"Nobody invited you," said Jack with a grimace.

"I don't need an invitation to step aboard my ship," observed Barbossa with a chuckle.

Elizabeth tightened her grip on Jack's hand just in time to prevent him from pulling out his pistol and shooting Barbossa on the spot. "Not now," she whispered in response to Jack pouting at her.

"Knocking him unconscious wasn't necessary," James cut into the conversation, stepping forward, and shifting his eyes from Beckett to Will who sighed and looked away. "But perhaps it might prove useful," he added after a pause, causing Will's eyes to return to him immediately.

"The heart is on land," said Will suddenly remembering his last conversation with Beckett. Jack's eyes darted to him. "He said that it's somewhere where Jones can't reach it," explained Will answering questioning looks around him. "So it must be on land, but I don't know where-"

"He organized his office in Port Royal," said Governor Swann, stepping closer. "All the important documents, seals are there. In our house," he added gloomily.

"It is probable that the heart is there," agreed James, narrowing his eyes.

"But we can't just turn around and sail to Port Royal, can we." Will exhaled slowly, dropping his gaze to the deck, his eyebrows furrowed in thought.

"I don't see why we can't," said Jack after a moment of silence, attracting everybody's attention.

"Maybe because if we do, we'll have four dozens of ships chasing after us," offered James with a wry smile.

Elizabeth looked at Jack, anticipating his lop-sided grin, even before it appeared on his face. "Then let's make sure they'll have something more interesting to chase after than us."

* * *

The room was dark and the faint candle light illuminated only the tips of his fingers closed around a quill in his hand. He had not written letters before, and even this letter was not really a letter...

He raised his hand, and watched a weak flame devouring the yellowed page. He had not written much. Only a heading, a greeting... Only a name.

He watched the name burn until there was nothing left but ashes; grey, colorless ashes falling soundlessly over his hand and the dark surface of the table.

Hiding his face in his hands he sighed. He was tired, exhausted by his thoughts. Maybe...

Maybe if he could see her, he would stop thinking about her all the time. Maybe he made it all up, all those thoughts, maybe she was not even real.

He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to think about something else, but he could not take his mind off her. His every thought was laced with the image of her, saturated with her voice, soaked in the memories that really held nothing worth remembering. She had only ever given him stern looks, haughty comments... No, not always. She was also quiet and sad sometimes... Sometimes she had seemed lost...

Or maybe it was only a figment of his imagination? No longer could he remember which memories of her was real, and which he had made up himself, which memories he only imagined to be...

_Elizabeth._

It was strange that a word could be that beautiful. A word alone, a series of letters, a sound... How was it possible that a sound, a single sound carried so much meaning?

He closed his eyes listening to the melody of her name.

He would not even know _if _he loved her, would he? A sudden thought caused him to open his eyes, the diminishing flame of the candle shivering in the cool air.

What was love? He had heard of love... But he had never felt it... Maybe that was why he had always felt so absent... always... But how could he know if it was love that he felt if he did not know what it was? How could he find out?

Slowly, he stood up, and walked toward the door, stopping in his tracks at the sudden thought, at the frightening realization that there was something important that he had forgotten. He could not remember his desire to be immortal anymore. He could not remember his wish to live forever.

He scanned the room with his colorless eyes wide open, sincerely terrified. How could he forget such a thing, such a feeling? How could he forget how much he wanted to stay here forever, to be Death forever? How could that dream go away? Go away so permanently that he could not even recall that feeling... As if suddenly everything was replaced with only one thought, one image, one...

_Elizabeth._

But wasn't it what she had wanted? His mood brightened abruptly, and a pale, unnoticeable, abstract smile flitted across his lips. She despised him, she despised Death, but now that he no longer wanted to be Death... Maybe now she would look at him differently? Maybe now she would see him in a different light? Maybe now... soon... maybe...

He closed his eyes and drifted into his thoughts. Her face, her eyes lightening the darkness like thousands of bright, iridescent candles.

* * *

"So what are we going to do? Negotiate the cessation of hostilities toward us in exchange for his life?" asked Barbossa, shooting Elizabeth who narrowed her eyes at him an amused look.

"If ye're not capable of following the conversation, at least remain silent so those who don't lack the capability to listen _and _comprehend what they're hearing may be able to continue doing it," said Jack without looking at Barbossa. "Put him into the longboat," he added, indicating Beckett with a wave of his hand. "And take him aboard..." he put a finger to his chin, taking a thoughtful look around, "that ship," he pointed to a ship on the left of the _Pearl _with a complacent smile.

Barbossa followed Jack's gaze disinterestedly, but then blinked, and darted his eyes to him. "That's my ship," he said, glaring at Jack.

"Technically, it's Captain Teague's ship," observed James in a flat voice.

"Ah, I knew I've seen it somewhere," said Jack with a smile. "But I've to say I'm quite surprised ye decided to steal the Keeper's ship."

"I had it given under my command," snapped Barbossa angrily, narrowing his eyes.

"By Teague?" Jack raised his eyebrows, sincerely surprised.

"By me," replied James in a firm voice, smiling slightly at the memory of Barbossa's annoyance at his refusal to let him captain the _Black Pearl_ after the parley.

"If I may interrupt," broke in Gibbs with an apologetic smile, all eyes turning to him. "Wouldn't it be better to act... faster?" he suggested, finding it alarming that several Company's ships unfurled their sails.

"It would," agreed Jack, ordering the crew to go back to their stations. "Take him aboard and drag away their attention to give us a clear passage across," he said turning to Barbossa. "Then ye may let him go and tell him that we're on our way to find a new Captain of the _Flying Dutchman_, and that we shall accomplish that within... three days," said Jack nonchalantly, twitching his nose. They already had only three days anyway.

Barbossa opened his mouth to protest but Jack cut him off. "Unless ye want to anger Calypso, but in that case she might reconsider some of her actions, like bringing back certain slimy people from their viscous graves," he added in a low voice, holding Barbossa's gaze.

"What does she have to do-" started Barbossa with a grimace.

"She wants the heart," replied Jack. "And bringing it to her might give us a chance-"

"A chance to be never rid of Jones," Barbossa pointed out, looking at Jack intently, wondering whether he was making it up, or perhaps really talked with Calypso.

"Let's focus on being rid of him at the moment," said Jack dismissively, pointing to Beckett. "Off ye go," she said, making shooing motions at Barbossa, who glared at him for a while, before he at last turned around, and followed the men who carried Beckett to the longboat, muttering dark promises under his breath. "Oh, and you can go with him," added Jack, narrowing his eyes at Will.

"I'm not going anywhere," said Will resolutely, knitting his eyebrows. "I'm staying with my father."

Jack smiled. "You can take him with you," he assured him in a cheerful voice.

"Jack," Elizabeth turned Jack around, and he looked at her with a pout. "Stop it," she whispered, leaning toward him.

"Stop what?"

"You know what."

"If I knew what ye mean by that what, luv, I wouldn't be asking what you mean by that what that ye just-"

"Jack," Elizabeth crossed her arms over her chest, narrowing her eyes at him.

"'Lizbeth," returned Jack in an official tone forcing Elizabeth to collect all her will power to keep herself from laughing.

"Would you accompany me below to help me retrieve," she hesitated only for a moment, "my hat," she asked on an impulse. Jack arched an eyebrow, a glimpse of amusement flickering in his eyes.

"It'd would be my pleasure if it wasn't my duty," he replied in a serious tone of voice. "I mean that accompanying me wife is of course a pleasure," he quickly amended, "in addition to being a duty-"

"What's our heading, Jack?" asked Gibbs interrupting them before they managed to direct their steps below.

Jack rolled his eyes. "Port Royal, Mr. Gibbs. Take us to Port Royal. Do ye want me to point it to ye on the map?" he asked, squinting.

Gibbs shook his head, and dismissed himself with a smile.

"So..." Jack turned to Elizabeth, leaning toward her.

"My hat," she reminded him with a coy smile, her heart fluttering at the sight of sunlight in his dark eyes.

"May I become acquainted with the rest of this undoubtedly brilliant plan?" inquired James, approaching Jack and Elizabeth with a questioning look on his face. "With its details, perhaps?"

"Details are always most important in every plan," said Jack, fending off the irritation at being interrupted once again. James nodded his head in agreement, eyebrows raised in slightly sarcastic anticipation. "But every plan's details are always a secret, and seeing that this plan is just like any other plan, its details are also a secret, and being a secret makes it impossible for them to be told, because told secrets are not secrets anymore, and if those secrets, which are in fact the details of our plan would lose their secretive quality, then their secretive nature would've been ruined, the secret details of our secret plan along with it, and along with the secret details our secret plan, so," Jack paused, and took a deep breath. "I'm afraid my answer has to be that you may not."

James stared at Jack for a moment in silence, glancing at Elizabeth who stood perfectly still, apparently not in the least bothered by the fact that she was married to a complete madman – at least that was James' opinion about the man at the moment. Without saying anything more, he turned around, and stormed away from the couple, shaking his head in silent exasperation.

Elizabeth rested her hands on Jack's shoulders, and kissed him quickly on the cheek. "They won't leave us alone," she whispered with a small pout. "I'll go help with the sails," she said slipping out of Jack's embrace before he could stop her.

"What 'bout yer hat, luv?" he called after her, but she only giggled under his breath in response, waving to him from the distance.

"How do we make sure that no ship will follow us?" asked Will concernedly, appearing next Jack, and shifting his eyes between him and the longboat being lowered to the sea.

"We'll hang ye up on the rigging with a flag in yer hand saying: don't follow," said Jack, walking past Will who rolled his eyes, and turned around, but when he did so Jack was already too far away to continue the conversation.

* * *

Elizabeth made her way toward the main mast, when all of a sudden she remembered that in her hurry to get on the deck to join Jack, she had forgotten to take any weapons with her. Scolding herself inwardly for her carelessness, and thinking that regardless of their current arrangements a battle could ensue at any moment, she quickly ran down the stairs to find herself a sword and a pistol. _I'll need my own effects_, she thought with an amused smile, thinking that she would like to have a sword made especially for her and a pistol with her initials-

"Elizabeth."

She stopped in her tracks, a step away from the Captain's Quarters' door. She held her breath and for a moment wondered if it was not her imagination that made her hear-

"Elizabeth."

But no.

Slowly, she turned around. He was real.

As real as Death could be...


	53. Chapter 53

A/N: _**Thank you so much for all the wonderful reviews! **_**:)**

...One quick announcement: my school starts next week, so I'm afraid that we'll have to switch back to only one update a week...

Disclaimer: I don't own Jack, Elizabeth, etc.

**Chapter 53**

"If we'll sail away, they might still attack the remaining ships, and that will not help holding the spirits high," said James in a firm voice. He had considered their situation for a moment, and decided that he had to try confronting the man about his _plan _once again, no matter how insufferable he was. "What makes you so sure that they will not do it?"

Jack tilted his head to the side, squinting. "I never said they wouldn't do it," he said simply, taking a bottle of rum from Gibbs, who set two more bottles on the galley's table.

"Oh so you just don't care if upon our departure the rest of your comrades' fleet will be blown into pieces," James looked at Jack intently, wondering whether there was even _one_ objectively logical thought running through his head. And whether there was a possibility of ever catching that one thought.

"An' ye care for them, an' not for the fact that they'll say that the Pirate King fled from the battlefield, is that it?" A small smile flitted across Jack's lips, as he pushed a chair with his foot, and sat down.

James narrowed his eyes at him. "Fleeing is what _you_ do best, if I remember correctly," he said in a low voice, looking down at Jack, and giving Gibbs a meaningful stare.

Gibbs looked back at him for a moment, but then blinked with comprehension, and muttering something about bringing more rum left the galley.

Jack looked at the door when they had closed after Gibbs, regarding it for a moment with raised eyebrows, only half-acknowledging what Gibbs had said. His thoughts were tossing and turning in his mind as he tried to twist the irritating riddle right and left, but the solution just would not come. He had rehearsed several scenarios already, but all of them had always been leaving him with at least one upset person... or entity.

He absently rubbed the burn on his hand, going through all the possibilities once again.

"What is it?"

Jack blinked, and took a quick look around suddenly remembering that there was nobody else but the two of them in the galley. James glanced heavenward on Jack's clueless facial expression, not even trying to guess how sincere it was. He pulled out a chair for himself and sat down at the table.

"There is something more to our situation than meets the eye," he said in a serious tone, looking at Jack searchingly.

"I'm not sure as to the extent of the word 'our' here," muttered Jack with an absent frown, staring into the empty air. Perhaps the best thing to do would be if he stabbed the heart himself. That would make the world free of Davy Jones, it would make the Time... person happy, and as for Calypso, there would be nothing she could do to him no matter how unhappy with such a turn of events she might be. Also, the idea of immortality was somewhat appealing...

"I'm afraid that as long as we are all on your ship, Captain Sparrow, your situation is our situation, the word 'our' referring to everybody on board," replied James, studying Jack's face intently, but not yet able to determine the reason for his sudden grimness.

Jack slowly uncorked the bottle of rum in his hand.

...but not as appealing as the lifetime with Lizzie, he thought with an inward sigh. In fact, it was impossible for him to think about living without her, a terrifying thought, and yet... it made him feel so calm for once, as if there was nothing to chase after, anymore. Of course there was still the horizon to reach, treasure to be found, battles to be fought... But they were all an addition, an _embellishment_. He could live without them, breathe without them, sleep without them-

"In other circumstances I might find your lack of words a blessing, but these are not those circumstances, I'm afraid."

James' voice drifted to Jack who shifted his eyes to him trying to shake off his thoughts. "Too many... people want that heart, that's all," said Jack glancing at the red burn, and closing his hand with a grimace.

"There is nothing new about it," countered James.

Jack smiled briefly. "I imagine you should know something about it, eh?"

"That was a long time ago," said James dismissively, looking away.

"Let's say you'd have two angry gods, one wishing the heart to be stabbed, the other wishing it to stay intact," started Jack after a pause, causing James to slowly turn his head back toward him. "And you'd also have a man and a monster, or... a monster and a man... or two monsters," James rolled his eyes, "whichever approach you take," Jack waved his hand, "who'd want the same heart, one of them wishing for it to be stabbed, the other for it to be returned to him within three days. To whom would you give said piece of flesh, then?" asked Jack, taking a swig of his rum.

"And what would happen after those three days?" inquired James, picking up on exactly that part of Jack's story that he had hoped James would not pay too much attention to.

"Let's say somebody who'd fail to deliver the heart within three days would meet his untimely demise," explained Jack in a slightly irritated tone of voice.

James raised his eyebrows. "How did you get into that position?" he asked, sincerely puzzled. "You didn't make another deal with Jones, did you?"

"Another?" Jack widened his eyes at him, making a mental note to confront Gibbs just how many stories and to how many people he had managed to tell while he had been gone.

"Oh of course you did," James interrupted him, struck by an idea. "It's how you brought Elizabeth back?" he said more than asked, his eyes piercing into Jack with such seriousness that for once they really made Jack feel uncomfortable. The last time he remembered feeling that uncomfortable was when Teague had once caught him climbing back to his room in the middle of the night.

Jack was about to defend his right to keep the mechanics of his heroic actions private, when the door opened and Governor Swann walked inside, causing Jack to hold on to his rum bottle, and hope that the Governor had come in search of something to eat or drink rather than with the intention of-

"Could we talk?"

-of talking to him.

* * *

What was he doing here?

Elizabeth stared at the man steadily returning his colorless gaze, and trying to put on a stern facial expression meant to conceal her fear. Suddenly everything came back to her, bleak memories washing over her like cold, dark rain. What did he want? She was free, she had been freed. What could he possibly want with her? Why did he come? Was it... her time to die? It could not be... It was not her time to die... She would feel it if it was... would she not?... It was too early... She could not die, not yet...

To her surprise the image that sprung to her mind when she thought that it was too early for her to die, was a noisy group of little, black-haired boys fighting over each other's hats and bandannas. She would have laughed at the idea if she was not petrified with fear.

"What do you want?" she asked with as much arrogance as she could muster. He could not take her away again, could he? Did he mean to kill her? According to what he had told her, if it was not her time to die killing her would destroy him, but perhaps revenge took over any common sense that he possessed, if he possessed any to begin with.

"I came to see you."

She blinked, half-certain that she had not heard him correctly. "Beg pardon?" she asked with a grimace, squinting.

The man looked at her for a moment in silence, not a muscle in his face moving, although Elizabeth had an impression that something flashed in his eyes... But she could not tell what it was.

"I came to see you," he repeated at last, and the sentence seemed dragged out from the back of his throat, as if it had taken him great effort to say; much more effort than when he had said it for the first time. "How do you feel?" he added in a blank tone, his voice strangely rushed.

Elizabeth glanced toward the stairs trying to imagine how much time it would take her to run to the staircase and up the stairs. Could he reach her before she would manage to escape? _Would _he run after her?

"How do I feel," she repeated his question and shook her head. "I don't understand," she said in a hollow voice, her hand subconsciously going to her missing sword, which would have been useless even if she had it with her. "Why are you asking me this?"

He looked away for a moment, before moving his eyes back to her. "Why? Does every question has to be asked for a reason?"

She found his question as simple as ridiculous, and wondered whether he himself felt how strange his question was... how strange his being here was... Why was he here?

"I would imagine," started Elizabeth resolutely, but trailed off noticing to her stupefaction that the man's hands that were hanging limply on his sides trembled. "Yes," she added, taking a deep breath to calm herself. Perhaps she was not in danger... If he had wanted to take her away he would have done that already. And if he had wanted to kill her, he would have done it already as well.

Or maybe her reasoning was all wrong. Maybe he just wanted to vex her, to frighten her before kidnapping her, or killing her-

"I just wanted to see if you're alright," he said tonelessly, his voice reminding her of the snowy landscape she had seen during one of their travels together...

He just wanted to see... if she was alright?! Elizabeth wrinkled her forehead, half-puzzled, half-irritated. He was obviously trying to annoy her. He was playing some kind of game with her, wasn't he? He had turned her life into a complete nightmare. And now he was telling her that he came to see her, because he wanted to see if she was alright?!

"I've been freed, _rescued_," she said, trying to keep her voice from shaking, and taking a step to the side, a step toward the stairs... "You have no right to be here, no right to-

"I just wanted to see if you're alright," he repeated, stepping toward her, and causing her to jump backwards, her back hitting the wall in a sudden surge of panic. The memory of his merciless grip, his cold stare, his uncaring voice slicing off any shreds of compassion that that strangely defeated look in his eyes had almost managed to evoke.

"I am alright!" she shouted, running blindly toward the stairs. "Leave me alone!" she turned around to see if he followed her, and found him just a few steps behind her. "Jack!!"

* * *

Jack indicated one of the chairs with a grand gesture, while James made to stand up, but the Governor stopped him:

"There is no need," he said calmly with a kind smile.

Jack knitted his eyebrows not seeing anything positive in being outnumbered. He put a bottle of rum in front of the Governor, and pushed another one in front of James, hoping that the conversation would focus on something of little importance-

"He made a deal with Jones to rescue Elizabeth, and now if he won't bring the heart to Jones, Jones will bring his life to an end," said James matter-of-factly, addressing the Governor, and causing Jack's eyes to widen on that unexpectedly quick and blunt report.

"This is not what I said," he tried to protest, shooting James a hurt look.

"But that was the gist of it," retorted James unsmilingly, although Jack had a vague impression that there was a glimpse of humor in his eyes.

Jack opened his mouth to continue protesting, but the Governor cut him off.

"A deal with Jones?" he echoed, and then his brows furrowed in thought as he remembered something... "Again?"

Jack blinked, not knowing whether he was more surprised, more irritated, or more touched by such extensive knowledge concerning his life. He took a breath, making a mental note not only to confront Gibbs about his narrations, but actually do some bodily damage to his superfluously narrating person.

"I have to say I didn't analyze it in terms of quantity," he gave a Governor a strained smile.

"But you did in terms of quality?" James asked with a quiet snort. "I rather doubt it."

"And why is that?" asked Jack with an annoyed pout.

"Because if you would've given it any substantial thought, you would've known that making any deals, any further arrangements with Jones couldn't have led us to any positive outcome," stated James in low voice.

"Well, I'm deeply flattered by your recurring feelings of identification with me and my ship, Your Highness, however I've to point out that _you _were not on my list of concerns when I was striking that deal," said Jack rather stiffly, wondering where this conversation was going, and wishing for it to end quickly, so he could continue his inner discussion... or... perhaps help his lawfully wedded wife find her hat, as she had so kindly requested. He cleared his throat to conceal his smile.

"Are we to give the heart to Jones once it is recovered?" Governor Swann broke into the conversation, finding it slightly odd that he was so quickly adjusting to this strange nomenclature. The heart, Jones, the F_lying Dutchman_... He felt bizarre every time he heard these words, and yet here he was now uttering them as if they belonged to the natural world.

Jack darted his eyes to his father-in-law, suddenly struck by an idea: there was no better way to end the conversation than render both the Governor and James Norrington speechless. "I think that it would've been a very unwise thing to do," he said resolutely, and then added almost immediately, making it sound as natural as possible, "Dad."

As he had expected, both the Governor and James were so taken aback by that form of address, that the conversation came to an inevitable pause. Wasting no time, Jack staggered to his feet with the intention of-

But all his intentions were forgotten as soon as he heard Elizabeth scream his name.

He leaped from his place, and ran out of the galley followed by equally alarmed James and Elizabeth's father.

If he could hear her voice, she could not be too far. She must have been below deck as well.

Jack turned around the corner near the stairs, running straight into Elizabeth who fell into his arms with a gasp, her hands wrapping around his neck so tightly that he lost his breath for a moment.

"Lizzie, Lizzie," he quickly hugged her, and then hastily drew back to look at her face. "What's wrong?" He tucked her hair behind her ear, cupping her cheek with his hand, his other arm holding her close to his chest.

James stopped in his tracks, trying to catch his breath, and taking a quick look around. Assessing that there was no danger in close proximity, he looked over his shoulder and nodded at the approaching Governor to let him know that he did not need to hurry. The Governor slowed down only a little bit, crossing the corridor as fast as he could.

"What's happened?" Jack forced Elizabeth to look at him, even though her eyes were still anxiously searching their surroundings.

"He was here," she said quietly, closing her eyes, and snuggling her face into his chest, causing James to look away contemplating leaving the scene altogether. After all, his assistance seemed rather superfluous, as far as he could judge the situation at the moment.

"Who?" Jack's fingers slid into Elizabeth's hair, gently propping her head so she would look at him again.

Governor Swann stopped next to James giving him a questioning look, but James only shook his head and shrugged slightly in response.

"He was here. I didn't know what to do," Elizabeth clutched Jack's shoulders with her hands, looking at him from under her eyelashes, smiling faintly at the strange sensation of her anxiety evaporating under his gaze almost immediately.

"Who was here, Elizabeth?" The Governor looked around the corridor uncertainly.

Elizabeth turned in Jack's arms and gave her father a reassuring smile. "It's alright now," she said as firmly as possible, not wishing for him to worry about yet another thing.

Jack encircled Elizabeth's waist from behind, pulling her gently against him. "What did he want?" he asked in a low voice, inching his lips close to her ear.

"He asked..." Elizabeth tilted her head to the side, "whether I was alright," she said with a shrug and a grimace, glancing at Jack without much conviction.

Jack raised his eyebrows and spun her around in his arms. "He asked whether you were alright?"

"Who asked?" Governor Swann shifted his eyes between Jack and Elizabeth.

James could not help but focus on the way Elizabeth clung to Jack, and he wondered if she really considered him dependable, or was it perhaps her own feelings that she depended on... But then again he _had_ rescued her, by striking another deal with Jones, no less. But there was still a question of for how long a pirate's feelings would last? Did she ever think about that?

"I told ye that ye shouldn't wander around all by yer bonnie self, luv, didn't I?" Jack's hand slid down Elizabeth's arm almost absently, but the shiver that went through her quickly reminded him of all the things he should not be thinking about at the moment.

Barbossa had taken Beckett to the _Silver Frenzy_, but there was no guarantee what would really happen next. Or even what would Barbossa himself do, for that matter. Chances were, he would try to strike a deal on his own, and that would not necessarily help them pursue a safe passage to Port Royal. And even if Barbossa would do as he was told... There was no reason why Beckett should believe that they had gone in search of a new Captain for the _Flying Dutchman_, and not with the intention of reclaiming the heart. The only thing Jack really counted on was time. A bit of a head start. And that hope was fragile enough to be even further diminished by the necessity to deal with... Death again.

And it was all those things that he should be thinking about at the moment. And yet he could not really find them worth thinking about when he stood holding Elizabeth in his arms.

"No, you didn't," Elizabeth finally gave up shooting surreptitious, apprehensive glances around the corridor, and looked straight into Jack's eyes, a small smile appearing on her face.

Jack widened his eyes at her. "I did not?!"

Elizabeth shook her head. "You only said something about locking me up, but nothing about wandering around," she said with a small pout, locking her arms around his neck.

"Is everything alright?" Gibbs appeared on the stairs also having heard Elizabeth's former screams.

"Aye, aye," Jack waved his hand at him dismissively, only then noticing James' eyes piercing into him, and Governor Swann's eyes also focused on him and Elizabeth, although perhaps with less explicit disapproval. "Well," he cleared his throat, letting Elizabeth to take a step away from him, so they were not standing in such a tight embrace. She also seemed to suddenly remember that they were not alone, and so she reluctantly moved away with a sheepish smile on her face.

"Well, at least here everything is alright," commented Gibbs with a slightly distressed look on his face. Jack gave him a questioning look. "We seem to have company," said Gibbs, wrinkling his forehead.

James snorted under his breath. "It was not particularly difficult to predict," he said with an exasperated sigh.

Elizabeth absently fondled one of Jack's hands in hers, when she suddenly felt something strange under her fingertips.

"It's not Beckett," said Gibbs, glancing at James with a cautious smile. "It doesn't seem to be a Company's ship at all," he added, shifting his eyes to Jack who tilted his head to the side with a frown, not paying attention to Elizabeth's hands lifting one of his to examine the palm of his hand.

"A pirate ship?" asked James dubiously.

"Aye," nodded Gibbs. "But they seem to be a tad to keen on catching up with us."

"Do they," muttered Jack, not bothering to guess who could it possibly be until he would see the ship for himself. There were only too many possibilities.

"What's this?" asked Elizabeth with a grimace, looking up at Jack questioningly.

Jack blinked, and looked at her, his thoughts revolving around finding the way to quickly free them from the superfluous company. It did not matter whether it was friendly or not, as long as it could slow them down. They needed to get to Port Royal as fast as possible, before Beckett would send a ship there as well, suspecting the course they had chosen. Not to mention the fact that the battle could ensue at any moment, although... although he doubted that Beckett would engage in the battle without the support of the _Flying Dutchman_, and seeing that the _Flying Dutchman_ was nowhere in sight, and that Beckett wished for the dreary ship to have a new captain, it seemed that Davy Jones refused to make his slimy appearance. _No doubt waiting for his heart_..., thought Jack grimly, the three days that he had shrinking into the distance more and more with every minute.

"What's what, luv?" he asked, perplexed, trying to concentrate on what Elizabeth was saying.

"This," she said pointing to nothing else but the red burn on his hand.

"Oh, this," Jack twitched his nose, forcing a smile. Oh this indeed. There was still the matter of telling Elizabeth about his deal with Jones... if it was even a good idea to tell her... He had rather hoped that it could have been avoided... "Looks like a... burn," he said with a quick smile.

Elizabeth narrowed her eyes at him. "I've noticed it before, I thought it was a rash from the line, or something like that. But now it's bigger, what is it?" she asked, looking at him searchingly.

"It's growing?!" Jack snatched his hand away from her grasp, and looked at the burn with distaste. He still had _almost _three entire days... maybe... two days and many, _many _hours, but still-

"Jack!" Elizabeth crossed her arms over her chest.

"And what do we do about that ship?" Gibbs broke in, hoping to at least get some instructions before Jack and Elizabeth's argument would evolve into something that could not be so easily interrupted.

"We continue to sail toward Port Royal, Mr. Gibbs, conveniently leaving all manner of allies and foes behind," ordered Jack, shaking his hand, as if it could make the burn go away.

"Jack!" Elizabeth took his hand in hers again, her voice betraying more concern than anger. "What is it?"

"He made a deal with Jones," offered James helpfully causing Jack's eyes to widen almost to the point of no return.

"Next time I'll just vote for myself," muttered Jack unhappily, avoiding looking at Elizabeth at all cost.

Gibbs looked as puzzled as Elizabeth, but decided to pursue his share of information later, and quickly went up the stairs to see to the _Pearl_ not allowing the other ship to catch up with her.

"What?" Elizabeth stared at Jack, his hand falling out of her grasp.

"Next time I'll just vote-" started Jack, but Elizabeth cut him off.

"Deal with Jones?" she asked incredulously, glancing at James. "What is this all about?"

Jack took a deep breath, preparing himself for a long word battle, but then the sound of cannons reverberated in the air, causing everybody to almost lose their balance.

"That was more than predictable," observed James dryly, shooting Jack a poignant look, before heading up the stairs.

"We really don't have time for that," said Jack to himself more annoyed than anxious, wondering who could find it fit to attack them at that precise moment.

"Jack," Elizabeth, followed by her father, walked after him taking two steps at a time.

"I guess asking ye to stay below makes no sense whatsoever, eh?" Jack looked at her over his shoulder, stopping in the middle of the stairs for a moment long enough to clasp her hand in his.

"No," she said, smiling a little despite being worried by the grim news. Deal with Davy Jones? When? How? What for? "But I need a sword and a pistol," she added quickly, before Jack turned around.

"Ah! So ye're little helpless, after all, luv," he said with a smirk, leaning toward her.

"I am not helpless! I just-"

Jack's lips quickly closed on hers, almost causing her to fall down the stairs if it was not for his arm that he had securely wrapped around her.

The Governor stopped dead in his tracks, the staircase being too narrow to let him just walk past them, something that he would very gladly do. He tried reminding himself that they were, in fact, married, but somehow it was not helping much.

He waited for a moment hoping that they would soon proceed forward, but unfortunately when Jack broke the kiss, Elizabeth kissed him again, and the Governor was forced to clear his throat in order to diplomatically remind them of his presence.

Elizabeth drew back abruptly, dropping her gaze to the floor, not knowing whether she was more embarrassed by the kiss, or by the fact that she had totally forgotten – _again – _that they were not alone.

Jack narrowed his eyes in a brief smile, quickly pulling Elizabeth with him and up the stairs.

The deck was crowded, but they quickly made their way to the side of the ship. Close behind the _Black Pearl _there was a ship following her, dark sails billowing in the wind.

"They fired only once," said Gibbs, walking up to Jack and handing him a spyglass. "Seems more like they wanted to attract our attention rather than do any damage," he said speculatively.

Jack looked through the spyglass in silence, while Gibbs and Elizabeth, as well as Governor Swann and James who came to stand near by looked at him expectantly.

"Do you recognize the ship?" asked Gibbs, looking between the approaching vessel and Jack, who slowly lowered the spyglass.

"No," said Jack with a grimace, although there was not much conviction in his voice. "But I recognize the captain," he added with a frown.

"Should we reduce our speed, see what they want?" suggested Gibbs uncertainly. "Or-"

Jack tapped his fingers on the back of his hand. "I'd rather have them leave us alone," said Jack, glancing at Gibbs with that something in his eyes that told Gibbs that the meeting was as unavoidable as undesirable at the moment.

"They're not following us for no reason," observed James, squinting into the distance, and having a strange impression that the person at the helm of the other ship was...

"I don't think they've particularly malicious reasons to follow us," retorted Jack, lifting his spyglass once again. "Although of course malicious is a matter of perspective," he added hesitantly. "Mr. Gibbs!" he called, lowering the spyglass, and storming away from the railing.

"Aye!" Gibbs followed him, leaving Elizabeth, the Governor and James slightly behind.

"Our situation is gradually..." Jack wriggled his fingers in the air.

"Deteriorating," offered Gibbs, and Jack shot him a startled look, but then looked away with a sigh.

"You could say so," agreed Jack with a twitch of his nose. "And when one's situation is getting worse, the only worse thing you could do apart from making it even worse, of course, is making it so bad that it can't even become worse," said Jack, glancing over Gibbs' shoulder at Elizabeth, who was at the moment fortunately engaged in a conversation with her father.

Gibbs only nodded his head in grim agreement, hoping to extract something more concrete from Jack's next sentence.

"We have less than three days to deliver the heart to Jones," started Jack. "And less than less than three days to deliver it to Calypso," Gibbs nodded, happy to follow Jack's reasoning so far. "And we have the same less than less than three days to have the heart stabbed by somebody who would take good care of the dead while working for Beckett."

"Would somebody working for Beckett be willing to take good care of the dead?" interjected Gibbs matter-of-factly, deciding to ignore, for the time being, the impossibility of delivering the stabbed heart to anybody, not to mention the doubtful likelihood of Jack helping somebody who would be willing to work for Beckett to stab the heart.

"No," answered Jack. Gibbs nodded, then blinked, but before he managed to ask anything, Jack continued: "Of course we don't have the heart yet, so we don't have to worry just yet about stabbing it or delivering it or doing anything else to it, aye?" said Jack, not making Gibbs feel any better.

"Aye," Gibbs scratched his forehead with a sigh.

"What we do have to worry about however, is a visit we're about to receive," said Jack, his eyes focused on Elizabeth.

"Any idea what they might want?" asked Gibbs, glancing at the ship that was getting closer and closer to the _Pearl_.

Jack gave him a strange look, but then shook his head. "They must've arrived late in Shipwreck Cove, heard the news, come here... Don't know what exactly they might want..."

"But you know the captain?"

Once again, Gibbs noticed that strange expression in Jack's eyes. He stared absently into the distance for a moment, but then blinked, his tone of voice becoming decisive again."I wish to resolve the matter quickly, and to resolve the matter quickly, I need to have all the things and persons that could make the matter impossible to be resolved quickly out of my way."

"Aye."

Jack was about to continue, but a warning call from the crow's nest cut him off and caused everybody to look up, and then, coming apparently from the other ship that was now almost side by side with the _Pearl_, hanging onto the rope, somebody flew above their hands, and landed on the deck with impressive gracefulness.

"Jack?" Gibbs looked at Jack uncertainly, hoping for him to finish his instructions, but Jack only waved his hand at him dismissively. "Too late," he said, wincing, and walking back toward where Elizabeth, the Governor and James were standing, their eyes fixed on the unexpected visitor.


	54. Chapter 54

A/N: _**Thank you so much for all the fantastic reviews! **_**:)**

...An earlier update in the celebration of the news concerning PotC 4!! :)

Disclaimer: Jack, Elizabeth, etc. belong to Disney.

**Chapter 54**

Elizabeth blinked, watching in stupefaction as a woman, several years older than herself, swiftly rose to her feet, brushed the dust off her shirt and breeches, adjusted her hat, and looked around the crew gathered on deck. Finally her eyes rested at one person in particular and she smiled.

Elizabeth followed her gaze... and blinked again.

"I'm sorry for my entrance, but you just wouldn't slow down, not enough to allow me to step on board... in a more graceful manner," said the woman with a hint of amusement in her voice, taking quick steps toward Jack who seeing, out of the corner of his eye, Elizabeth's facial expression, bit back all the welcoming jokes that came to his mind.

"Didn't notice ye meant to pay us a visit, luv, being in a little bit of a hurry here, really" said Jack with a stiff smile.

Elizabeth cringed inwardly at the word "luv". Somewhere in the back of her mind she suspected that he might have addressed like that every woman he had ever met, but the trouble was that she had never actually heard him address any other woman like that, and hearing it now was predominantly odd, and more than slightly unpleasant. Not to mention the very fact of seeing him talk with another woman... As strange as it was, even though she knew only too many more or less romantic stories involving Captain Jack Sparrow, she had never really _seen _him with any other woman, and all those stories seemed to her almost unreal, vague, and of no consequence. And now, all of a sudden, there was a woman, a _real _woman invading the personal space of _her husband_ without even sparing her a second glance.

The woman shook her head with a chuckle. "Frankly speaking, I expected to be welcomed with a bit more enthusiasm," she said, stepping so close to Jack, that Elizabeth found it necessary to make her presence known. She took a step toward him, but before she managed to come close enough to lace her hand through his arm as she had intended to do, the woman moved to stand on her tiptoes, and would have surely kissed Jack on the mouth, if he did not turn his head abruptly, causing her lips to collide with his cheek instead.

James glanced at Elizabeth who was staring at the scene with wide eyes. It felt strange to see her pale at the sight, to see her being jealous of Jack Sparrow.

"Maybe we should start by getting to know each other... better!" said Jack with forced cheerfulness, startling the woman by taking her by the arms and putting some distance between them in a rather abrupt manner. "Ameerah Fiero," Jack reached for Elizabeth's hand, tugging her closer. "Elizabeth Sparrow."

"_Captain_ Ameerah Fiero," the woman corrected Jack with an amused, almost conspirational smile, shooting Elizabeth a brief look. "I didn't know you had a little sister, Jack," she said, still smiling, but something in her eyes told Elizabeth that the sincerity of her mistake was at least debatable.

Jack felt Elizabeth stiffen beside him, and although there was something pleasing in the thought of her being jealous of him, he did not wish for her to get upset, something that was likely to happen considering her temper, which matched by Ameerah's bluntness might prove quite deadly.

"Well, I don't," said Jack with a wide smile.

Captain Ameerah raised her eyebrows, once again shifting her eyes to Elizabeth, this time with greater intensity, and it suddenly crossed Elizabeth's mind that perhaps she really had thought that she was Jack's sister... and she found that possibility even more irritating than the previous one.

"Elizabeth- _Mrs. _Captain Elizabeth Sparrow, is my wife," added Jack, and Elizabeth slowly exhaled, realizing that she had been holding her breath. For some reason, quite abstractedly, she had been afraid that Jack was not going make it unambiguously clear that they were married.

"Your wife?" The incredulity in the woman's voice annoyed Elizabeth, but she managed to utter her first words since the woman's appearance, keeping her tone kind:

"You seem surprised, captain Fiero," said Elizabeth, steadying her ridiculously trembling voice. Why was she so nervous? There was really no reason to be nervous.

"It's Ameerah," the woman extended her hand, catching Elizabeth off guard by the gesture, and gracefully avoiding the necessity to address her as Mrs. Sparrow, the fact that Elizabeth diligently noted.

"Elizabeth," she lightly shook the woman's hand, and then laced her hand through Jack's arm.

"Surprised is an understatement, Elizabeth," Ameerah smiled, and Elizabeth _objectively_ acknowledged that the woman had a particularly displeasing smile. She glanced at Jack, and to her further annoyance saw that he was actually returning the woman's awful smile.

"Is it?" Elizabeth forced a smile on her own, suddenly realizing that she might be overreacting a bit. After all, nothing great had happened. Yet.

"Aye. I never thought I'd see the day," Ameerah tilted her head to the side, taking off her hat, and shaking her long, auburn hair free.

Elizabeth's first thought was to untie her bandanna and let her own hair fall freely over her shoulders, but fortunately she stopped herself before she let the ridiculous idea made her react in such a silly way.

"There are more things-" started Ragetti, but Pintel poked him in the side with a meaningful glare.

"Well," Jack took advantage of the distraction, quickly changing the course of the conversation. "As I said. We're in a hurry-"

"Is this any way to treat old friends?" Ameerah placed her hands on her hips in a playful gesture and then waved her hat at Jack and laughed.

Jack glanced at Elizabeth, and caught her looking at him. He could not quite decipher the expression in her eyes... But he could see there a long list of questions she was going to ask him once they were alone.

"Captain," Gibbs appeared on Jack's side, shooting a quick glance at Captain Fiero. "I think full speed would be in order if we're to-"

"Aye, exactly!" Jack tapped Gibbs on the shoulder, giving him a grateful look, and then shifting his eyes from him to Ameerah. "I'm afraid that if ye'd like to return to yer ship, luv," Jack paused, feeling Elizabeth's nails dig into his forearm, "ye'll have to do so now," he continued with a smile, "The _Pearl_ is still the fastest ship in the Caribbean, so if we'll go with full speed, yer lovely boat will inevitably fall behind-"

"And yet I almost caught up with you!" Ameerah stepped closer to Jack, and completely ignoring Elizabeth's glare, brushed her outstretched hand over his shoulder.

Elizabeth stood so still that Jack had to look at her to make sure that she was still there.

"That ye did, however-"

Captain Fiero cut Jack off by putting on that insincerely carefree, nonchalant expression that Elizabeth knew quite well from many social gatherings that she had always dreaded to attend.

"Ah, don't worry 'bout that," she waved her hand on her ship dismissively. "I wouldn't miss hearing about yer latest adventures for anything," she said with deliberately accidental tenderness, that lingered only for a moment in her voice. Elizabeth narrowed her eyes at the display, wondering if Jack could see through it as well as she could. "I'm in no hurry," she said seriously, and then laughed, tucking her hair behind her ear. Jack smiled cautiously, not liking where the conversation was going. "I'll sail with ye wherever it is ye're going, an' then ye'll drop me on my ship on yer way back. Sounds delightful?" Ameerah smiled.

Elizabeth bit her lip, too annoyed to even roll her eyes. It was obvious that the woman was determined to stay on board, and she doubted that unless Jack would be willing to order for her to be threatened and escorted to her ship, there was a chance to free them from the unwanted company. She glanced at Jack. Hopefully unwanted.

"Oh, but ye see..." Jack tried to clear the look of uneasiness off his face. "We may take a different route back, different than this one, and if we take that other route back, then we'll be unable to deposit yer lovely self on yer ship, which will be on this route back, and not on the one we'll be taking," he explained with as much charm and politeness as possible, although he doubted it could help.

Ameerah wrinkled her nose, appearing to be deep in thought for a moment. But then her face brightened. "That's quite alright. We'll worry 'bout it later," she said with a smile, and ran to the railing, yelling orders to her crew.

Elizabeth hastily withdrew her hand from where it was laced through Jack's arm, and shoot him an aggravated look, which, in his opinion, was undeservedly hostile. "Well, I guess I'll leave you to your _lovely _old friends, then," she said in a low voice, spun around, and stormed off so quickly than before Jack managed to utter a word, she was already in the middle of the stairs leading below deck.

Jack ran his hand across his face with a sigh. He did not even do or say anything aggravating, and she was already aggravated. It did not bode well at all.

The Governor seeing little reason to stay on deck, followed Elizabeth, while James remained standing by the railing, giving Jack the look that, Jack had no doubt about it, must have earned him more enemies than any military actions.

"I do believe there are more interesting things to look at than me," he said impatiently, motioning for Gibbs to come, and keeping an eye on Ameerah who was still talking to her crew.

"For once you're right," agreed James with a smile, which quickly faded. He looked at Jack seriously for a moment, before finally taking a few steps toward him, until he stood right in front of him.

Jack took a step back, glancing right and left in search of assistance, but everybody was already scattered around the deck, following Gibbs' orders to prepare to sail with all haste and full speed.

"I will not allow you to hurt Elizabeth in any way," said James in a low voice.

Jack rolled his eyes, but then looked at James rather sternly. "And I will not have anybody, even the King, threatening me on me own ship. This is my ship, and... I am the king here," he added after a moment of consideration. James raised his eyebrows. "So if ye don't fancy walkin' the plank, please do step out of my way, 'cause I wish to speak with _my _wife who is now in _my _cabin, on _my _ship, which brings us back to the fact that it's my ship and I am the only one in charge of doing any threatening here. Savvy?"

"Jack!"

Jack froze, wriggling his fingers in the air and shooting James a hurt look, as if it was his fault. James shifted his eyes to Ameerah. Jack quickly pasted a smile on his face and turned around.

"Yer crew must've been devastated to learn 'bout yer plan to abandon them for a while," he said, narrowing his eyes with a smile, but before Ameerah managed to answer, Jack called, spotting Will and Bill Turner emerge from below the deck. "Ah! William!" And quickly swaggered into their direction.

Ameerah glanced at James and gave him a smile before following Jack.

"Isn't that curious," muttered James to himself, clasping his hands behind his back, and slowly turning around.

"Curious?" Ragetti, who was standing nearby, picked on the word, looking at James interestedly.

"Curious time for visiting," amended James with a flitting smile, and slowly walked away.

Pintel and Ragetti exchanged blank glances, before returning their attention to Jack who approached Will and his father, Ameerah following closely behind.

"Mr. Turner is the _Pearl_'s newest reception committee... committeer," said Jack with a wave of his hand. Will knitted his eyebrows. "Always taking an excellent care of our guests, visitors... hostages and the like," he smiled cheerfully, unlike Will who shifted his eyes between Jack and Ameerah in slightly irritated confusion. "So I'll leave ye under his exceptional care, aye?"

Without waiting for anybody's reaction, Jack spun around and was gone in an instant.

Will glanced at his father who rubbed his forehead with a low chuckle.

"Well, let me introduce myself since Jack apparently failed to do so," said Ameerah with a smile that did not quite reach her eyes, as she tried, to no avail, brush the feeling of annoyance off her mind.

* * *

Governor Swann stood with his hands clasped behind his back, watching Elizabeth pace around the cabin with a frown on her face. From time to time she would pick up a drawing from the floor, put it into one of the drawers, or bend down reaching for a shirt that she would neatly fold, then toss it inconsiderately into the wardrobe.

"I wouldn't miss hearing about your latest adventures for _anything_," whispered Elizabeth in a mocking tone through her gritted teeth, throwing a boot that she had picked up from the floor toward the wardrobe so carelessly, that the Governor had to step abruptly to the side in order to avoid being hit by it.

"Elizabeth..." he started uncertainly, looking with wonder at his daughter, whom he could not remember seeing that irritated before.

"And yet I almost caught up with you!" Elizabeth picked up several drawings from the floor, and placed them in the drawer with such force, that the Governor half-expected the drawer to break.

"Elizabeth, is there really a good reason for-"

The knocking on the door cut the Governor off, and he looked at Elizabeth expectantly, but she did not move, only gave the door a grim look. The Governor cautiously turned around, and opened the door with a sigh.

Jack walked inside, hesitating between two approaches: starting to apologize right away (not that he had done anything, but still), or making Elizabeth aware that her behaviour was unjustified, hysterical, and ridiculous.

At the sight of him Elizabeth huffed in annoyance, spun around, marched into the bedroom, and slammed the door shut behind her. Jack winced at the sound.

"Well," the Governor gave him a faint smile. "I will leave you to discuss it in peace," he said heading for the door.

"In peace?" Jack repeated automatically with such sincere despair in his voice that the Governor's smile widened a bit. He glanced at Jack one more time, and left the cabin.

* * *

Barbossa sat back in his chair, his eyes fixed on Beckett who raised his eyebrows and then snorted. "All of you will die," he said in a blank tone. "This is only a matter of time," he added, looking unblinkingly into Barbossa's eyes.

"A strange threat to be made by somebody being held hostage," said Barbossa with a smile, squinting.

"And what do you intend to gain in return?" Beckett's eyed drifted toward the window, and straightening up in the chair to which he was tied. "Time?" he shifted his gaze back to Barbossa and smiled. "So they wish to retrieve the heart," he waited for a moment, but Barbossa did not say anything. "And then what? Do you think that Davy Jones will listen to you more eagerly than he listened to us?"

"He's a dangerous man to depend on. And it's always a mistake to depend on dangerous men," said Barbossa in a low voice.

"There are no dangerous men," Beckett gave him a slightly sardonic look, before returning his gaze to the window and the sea outside. "There are only dangerous choices."

Without taking his eyes off Beckett, Barbossa staggered to his feet but then his eyes flew to the door just in time to see it swing open, several people running into the cabin, and surrounding him almost immediately.

Beckett raised his eyebrows with a sigh that was meant to cover his annoyance at being seen in such a degrading state by the soldiers who promptly started untying him from the chair.

"The _Black Pearl_ is gaining speed, sir," Mercer walked into the cabin, shooting a blank look at Barbossa, and approaching Beckett who rose from the chair, throwing a piece of rope that was tangled around his arm to the floor with a grimace. "Should we follow her?"

"_Should_ we follow her?" Beckett almost glared at Mercer, glancing at Barbossa who was being escorted out of the cabin, his eyes locking with Beckett's for a moment long enough for Barbossa to acknowledge the ruse. Something was amiss. He had expected an attack, expected a commotion caused by the _Black Pearl_ sailing away, something that must have attracted the _Endeavor_'s attention since they had known that Cutler Beckett was on that ship. He had predicted they might have noticed Beckett being taken to the _Silver Frenzy_ and attack her rather than follow the _Pearl_. However, everything had happened decidedly too fast to attribute the speed of the attack exclusively to the enemy's acuteness; not to mention that he had counted on the _Silver Frenzy_'s crew to put more of a fight... Perhaps they had been caught off guard... which seemed strange considering that they had been expecting an attack. Obviously, Beckett had been prepared for a similar scenario. He had known. And he had something planned.

"I thought-" started Mercer, but Beckett cut him off, his next words reaching Barbossa's ears when he was already in the corridor.

"We will follow the _Black Pearl_ with this ship. And have the _Endeavor _follow us, but at a safe distance. Let them sail for a while thinking that they are not chased after with all haste," added Beckett when the door closed behind the soldiers that had taken Barbossa to the brig.

"If I may, sir..." Mercer paused. Beckett looked at him expectantly. "What are we waiting for?" he asked, squinting.

Beckett brushed the dust off his sleeves. "We're waiting for the _opportune moment_, Mr. Mercer," he said with a hint of complacent irony in his voice. "We're waiting for the opportune moment to retrieve our new Captain of the _Flying Dutchman_ from aboard the _Black Pearl_." He looked away with a smile. "This is going to be very entertaining, I assure you."

* * *

"Lizzie?" Jack called hesitantly, lightly knocking on the side cabin's door.

"Go away!" Elizabeth muffled voice answered him.

Jack rolled his eyes, and pressed the knob, half-expecting the door to be closed. Fortunately, it was open; he walked in, despite Elizabeth's huff of protest.

She was lying on the bed, and when he walked in she turned on her side, burying her face in a pillow, and pressing another pillow to her ear.

Jack smirked to himself, noiselessly taking off his coat, and throwing it over a chair. "Elizabeth, I really don't think I deserve to be treated in such a way," he risked making his voice sound a little impatient.

Elizabeth sat upright so quickly, that he stopped abruptly in his tracks, half-way toward the bed. "Oh, oh, so now I'm _Elizabeth_, and she is _love_!?" she said irritatedly, shooting him a glare, and then turning away from him once again and resuming her former position.

Jack blinked several times, slightly taken aback by the extent of Elizabeth's irritation. Slowly, he made his way to the bed and very cautiously sat down and then half-laid down, propping himself on an elbow right behind Elizabeth's back.

For a moment he just looked at the back of her head, her hair falling out from under the bandanna with which she had tied her hair. Slightly tilting his head forward he saw that she had her eyes open, and was staring at the window, forehead wrinkled, lips pursed, breathing slightly uneven.

He smiled to himself, and gently placed his chin on her shoulder. Elizabeth tossed her head, and looked at him irately, but he steadied her with his hand on her hip before she managed to snatch herself away from him.

"Lizzie darling, I really don't see any reason for you to be like that," he said, scooping her closer in one swift movement, causing the bandanna to slid off her hair completely. "Somebody whom I happen to know decided to pay us an unexpected visit. How is that my fault? And how is that a bad thing in the first place?" he asked with a small pout, wrapping his arm around Elizabeth, and not letting her turn away from him again.

Elizabeth snorted under her breath. "And just how well you know her?" she asked, looking at him intensely. He looked at her, not really knowing how to answer her question...

"Of course," Elizabeth smiled sourly. "Why do I even bother asking," she turned on her side once again, returning her gaze to the window. "Maybe I should just get used to it. We'll probably keep running into your _old friends_ in every port we make," she muttered in an annoyed tone of voice.

Jack knitted his eyebrows, and encircled Elizabeth's waist, pressing her flush against him. She stifled a gasp, pushing away his hand that was tugging her shirt out of her breeches, and trying to sneak under the white fabric.

"Leave me alone," she hissed with half-hearted anger, struggling for a few more moments until she gave in and let him lay his outstretched hand flat on her stomach, from where it slowly traveled upwards.

"That was the most charming display of jealousy, luv, but-"

Elizabeth shot upright in bed once again. "She kissed you!" she shouted, hitting the mattress with her fists.

Jack widened his eyes at her. "She _almost_ kissed me," he pointed out matter-of-factly.

"She would've kissed you if you didn't turn your head," said Elizabeth through her gritted teeth, looking at him unblinkingly.

"And you have to admit that it was very fortunate that I did turn my head, then." Jack risked a smile, but it only infuriated Elizabeth more.

"You find it amusing?! That I've been humiliated in front of everybody? My father, the entire crew?"

Jack's smile quickly turned into a frown. "Humiliated?" He reached for Elizabeth's hand to tug her closer, but she pushed his hand away.

"A woman appears on the deck of... of..." Elizabeth waved her hands, looking for the right words, "of _my_ ship, _my_... home" she said at last, and Jack had to struggle not to smile, finding Elizabeth referring to the _Pearl_ as her ship, as her home strangely exhilarating. Until then he had never thought that he might have felt so happy to hear somebody other than him claim the _Pearl_ as theirs. "And she just walks up to _my _husband, and want to- No, not want to," Elizabeth huffed in annoyance, "she actually _does _kiss _my _husband! And how is that not humili-"

She trailed off, finding herself pinned to the bed, trapped under Jack's body, his hands keeping hers from pushing him away; his lips... on hers before she had the time to catch her breath.

She kissed him back only because kissing him back seemed easier than not kissing him back... and maybe also because her lips felt so cold, and his were so warm upon hers... and maybe because when he kissed her everything was turning bright... every thought, every memory bursting into flickers of light, making her feel so carefree, so safe... as if she was flying... and his arms were her wings, the only ones she needed to soar above the entire world... and the entire ocean...

She only half-acknowledged when he let go of her hands which automatically flew to his neck, and she wrapped her arms around him pulling him closer. His hands slid underneath her, lifting her for a moment long enough to help her pull her shirt over her head and toss it to the floor.

"If you'll let her kiss you again, I'll send you to the Locker with my own hands," she whispered, falling back onto the bed under the cascade of his kisses that swiftly took her breath away.

"Lips," corrected Jack with a hint of humor in his voice, drawing back to divest himself of his own shirt.

Elizabeth opened her eyes with a faint smile, taking in the sight of him. "Where did you get that?" she asked, struck by a memory, her hand flying to one of his bullet scares. "When we met in the past you had only one."

Jack leaned down, resting his forehead against hers. "Aren't ye too curious for yer own good, luv?"

Elizabeth frowned slightly at the unpleasant reminder. "Why did you call her "love"?" she asked, running her outstretched hands over his chest until they rested on his shoulders.

He kissed the tip of her nose and smiled at the familiar way in which she always seemed to jump from topic to topic, asking at once all kinds of questions.

"It's just a word, luv. It's the meaning behind the word that matters, and the meaning behind this word when I'm saying it to you is entirely different than when-"

Elizabeth pulled him down by his dreadlocks eliciting a small "oi" from him.

"I felt like somebody stabbed me when you said it," she said with sad sincerity, letting go of his dreadlocks, and running her fingertips across his face.

"Lizzie," Jack frowned, cupping her cheek with his hand. She tilted her head to the side and quickly kissed the palm of his hand, before returning her gaze to him, the pout still on her face. "If I knew that it might upset you so..." He leaned down, and brushed his lips along her collarbones. "And perhaps we could close that discussion altogether for the time being," he added, finding it highly disturbing to lay with his chest pressed against hers while Elizabeth's thoughts were apparently wandering where there was no need for them to wander.

She bit back a smile, and slowly raked her nails down his back. "Shouldn't you be at the helm? Or plotting a course? Or-"

He grinned before capturing her lips in an ardent kiss. "You're not throwing me out of me own bed, are you, Mrs. Sparrow?"

They kissed for a longer while, imprinting on each other's lips slow, burning kisses that made the cabin spin.

"I could keep you here," whispered Elizabeth, watching him through half-lidded eyes. "Although you'd have to give me a reason to do that," she added with a smirk.

"Ah, well" Jack smiled at her roguishly. "First and foremost, I'm Captain Jack Sparrow."

"That's not a reason," stated Elizabeth resolutely, pursing her lips.

Jack brushed his lips against hers making her smile. "You'll soon find that it is," he said in a low voice. "Lizzie," he kissed her softly on the lips, and drew back. Elizabeth slowly opened her eyes. "My Lizzie," he said, lightly touching her lips with his. "My love, my wife, my darling," he whispered the words between the kisses, and she clung to him, not sure whether she felt more like crying or laughing. "My dusk and my dawn, my calm and my tempest..."

"Jack," she whispered in a barely audible voice, overwhelmed by the reverence in his tone, suddenly feeling silly for behaving the way she had, for ever even thinking that there was anything that could stand between them after all the disasters they had survived already, after all the things that he had done because of her, for her, for them.

"Shhh," he silenced her, brushing the backs of his ringed fingers across her lips. "I'm not finished yet," he added with a smile, but she could see the seriousness in his eyes, seriousness and peace she had not seen in his eyes before. "My sea and my shore..."

Despite the solemnity in his voice and in his eyes, Elizabeth did not manage to stifle a chuckle, and suddenly found herself laughing, although she tried very hard to stop.

Jack stared down at her, trying to keep the humor out of his voice. "May I enquire as to the reason for... yer fine mood, luv?"

"I'm sorry," Elizabeth cleared her throat, and looked at him as seriously as she could, indicating her readiness to continue listening. But as soon as he opened his mouth to speak, she burst into giggles once again. "I'm sorry," she managed to choke out.

"Nothing to be sorry about. It's not like you're laughing at your unclad husband when he's trying to express his love for you," said Jack in a pretendedly hurt tone of voice.

"That's not it," Elizabeth cradled his face in her hands and kissed him. "It's just... I read such confessions in books and always thought that they were ridiculously unrealistic."

"I highly doubt you read it anywhere, luv," replied Jack, slightly narrowing his eyes at her and tilting his head to the side, trapping one of her hands in between his cheek and his shoulder. "These are all my original ideas," he stated firmly, causing Elizabeth to laugh again.

"Oh Jack," Elizabeth brushed her thumbs over his lips with a thoughtful smile. "Just don't let us get lost again."

He leaned over her, resting his forehead against hers. "We won't, Lizzie. We won't."

* * *

There was something he did not know. There must have been something he did not understand. He was just missing something... How could he make her feel what he felt? How could he make her see, at least see, what he felt...

He inched his finger closer to the small, orange flame, a yellow candle melting in front of his eyes.

"Like a moth, and yet not quite."

He cringed and leaped to his feet, his colorless eyes scanning the semi-darkness.

Slowly, from the far corner of the room Calypso walked toward him, her dark hair longer than he remembered, her face freed from the shadow of grimness that used to hover over it. He squinted, but did not step away, holding her gaze with increasing arrogance.

"What are you doing here?" he asked in a blank voice, watching her warily. "You can't be here," he added in a lower tone.

She smiled. "I can be anywhere, everywhere," she said, stepping closer. "I am the sea," she breathed, and all of a sudden the room disappeared, and they were standing on a thin strip of land, the waves lapping on their feet. The man moved away from the waves, but they followed him. "Now, that I'm free I can be everywhere," amended Calypso, and there was a flash of anger in her eyes, but it was gone almost before he had the time to acknowledge it.

"Even the sea can't conquer death," he said sharply, glancing at the immaculately blue water with suppressed annoyance.

"And what is it dat Death can't conquer?" asked Calypso with a knowing smile, tilting her head to the side.


	55. Chapter 55

A/N: _**Thank you so much for all the great reviews! **_**:)**

...& I'm sorry for the late update! My school has gone absolutely crazy this year. I'll try to keep the updates once a week, but if from time to time it would take me more than one week to update, please don't think that I abandoned the story:)

...& as for the story itself... we have 10-15 more chapters till the end! :)

_Warning: character's death_

Disclaimer: Disney owns PotC.

**Chapter 55**

"A reception committeer," Will rolled his eyes when Ameerah had thanked him and politely excused herself from his and his father's company.

"Doesn't sound too bad," observed Bill Turner good-humoredly.

Will looked at him, and sighed. "I wish I could get off this ship," he said in a low voice, resting his elbows on the railing.

His father patted him reassuringly on the shoulder. "You'll get over this, it will go away, and one day-"

"I'll meet somebody else who will make me happy. I know," said Will with a wry smile, a hint of impatience in his voice.

"Ah, well," Bill sighed, giving his son a sympathetic smile.

"No sign of other ships behind us?" James broke into the conversation, straining his eyes and looking out at the sea.

Will turned around, grateful for the change of topic. "No. They don't seem to follow," he said somberly.

"Well said, Mr. Turner," said James, glancing at his grim face, but choosing not to comment on it. "They don't seem to indeed."

Will shifted his eyes to James, trying to shake off his thoughts that had flooded him all of a sudden, chaotic memories of sunny days in Port Royal, surreptitious glances, hopeful smiles, hopeless dreams... They all seemed so distant – and they were all fading away somehow, even though a shadow of bitterness and glumness still lingered over his every thought that had something to do with Elizabeth.

"Do you think they know where we're going?" asked Will, wrinkling his forehead.

James snorted under his breath. "I have no doubt they do," said James, his eyes fixed on the ocean.

"Maybe the heart is so well-guarded on land that they don't need to follow us to make sure we wouldn't get it," said Will speculatively.

"Maybe," agreed James after a pause. "But I wouldn't be that optimistic," he added, glancing at the sea one more time before walking away and heading for the helm.

* * *

"Why can't it always be like this?"

Jack kissed Elizabeth on the shoulder, her back pressed against his chest, their eyes taking in the sea outside of the small cabin window. "It can," he said, burying his face in her hair, inhaling deeply.

Elizabeth smiled, stroking Jack's shin with her foot. "No, I mean... why can't we stay like that forever."

"In here?" he asked in a muffled voice.

"In an embrace," corrected Elizabeth smilingly.

"We can. We can walk around holding hands, we can man the helm..." he hesitated, "woman the helm..." Elizabeth giggled, "_marriage_ the helm together... There's nothing that can't be arranged, Lizzie-luv."

"Jack..." Elizabeth turned around in his arms. "Tell me about that deal with Davy Jones," she said in a low voice, looking him deeply in the eyes.

Jack groaned, and then pulled her roughly against him, capturing his lips in a fervent kiss. She returned the kiss, gently cupping the side of his face with her hand.

"Tell me," she breathed, breaking the kiss. As much as she knew her commanding tone to be quite effective more often than not, she also knew that if his mind was set on not telling her something, it was better to take a different approach. "Jack, tell me."

He rested his forehead against hers, and closed his eyes. His hand slid into Elizabeth's hair, picking single strands and twirling them around his fingers.

"We'll get to Port Royal, find the heart-"

"Jack."

"And then-"

"Jack, I don't want to hear what will happen," Elizabeth draped her leg over his, her hand gliding down his arm. He opened his eyes and looked at her with a pout. "I want to know what happened. What deal have you made?"

He twitched his nose and sighed in exasperation, but then his eyes brightened, and he gave her a small, impish smile. "Persuade me," he said in a husky voice, and Elizabeth rolled her eyes.

"And what else do you think I'm doing?" she asked, arching an eyebrow.

Jack widened his eyes at her. "Surely it wasn't yer only motivation?" he asked with a pout, returning her smile when she smiled.

For a while they just looked at each other in silence, until Elizabeth lost hope that Jack was going to tell her anything at all. She propped herself on an elbow, and narrowed her eyes at him, trying to come up with a threat good enough to make him talk. Jack watched her with amusement flickering in his eyes; amusement, and that exhilarating kind of admiration that always made her feel as if she was the most wonderful person in the world.

At last something came to her mind, and she reached for one of his dreadlocks, fluttering it in front of his face. "If you won't tell me, I will eat it," she said in a serious voice, bringing a joyful smile on his face.

"Be my guest, luv. You may even eat more than one," he said, smirking.

Elizabeth fell onto the pillows with a sigh, pulling the cover over her, and casting her eyes on the ceiling. "I guess you will never really trust me," she said quietly.

Jack's smile quickly turned into a frown. "I do trust you, 'Lizbeth," he said firmly, leaning over her, propping his head on an elbow, and taking one of her hands in his, sliding his fingers in between hers.

Elizabeth slowly shifted her gaze to their entwined hands. "If you do trust me, you should tell me," she said seriously.

Jack looked at her for a moment in silence, a part of him still relishing with wonder the simple fact of having her so near – having her as his wife so near, the thought making him smile no matter how grim were the circumstances they were in. As long as he could just reach out and feel her heartbeat under his fingertips all was well in the world.

"Jones wants his heart back in three days," he said in a low voice, causing Elizabeth's head to quickly turn toward him. "Calypso wants the heart as well. Our... time friend wants the heart to be stabbed. Beckett wants the heart to be stabbed. That's all," Jack smiled, but then narrowed his eyes in a grimace. "Unless I forgot somebody..."

"Jack!" Elizabeth sat up, looking at him incredulously. "This is unsolvable!" she said with a huff of exasperation, looking away.

"Lizzie-luv," Jack pushed himself to an upright position, smirking at the careless way in which she kept the cover wrapped around herself, and which was at the moment, due to that fact, not covering much. "I'm Captain Jack Spa-"

"And I'm Captain Jack Sparrow's wife, and I'm telling you that this is unsolvable!" she snapped in a loud voice. Jack winced. "Why did you make the deal with Jones again?" she asked quietly, a sudden suspicion quickly forming itself in her mind.

Jack turned away from her, and sat on the other edge of the bed, reaching for his clothes. "Well, I think I'll go to take the helm now-"

"Jack," Elizabeth swiftly crawled toward him, placing her hands on his shoulders from behind and stopping his movements. "That... vision that I had, that... hallucination that I thought was real," she swallowed, staring at the back of his head in dismay. "It was real, wasn't it? It really happened. You were... you are... you..." she shook her head remembering the moment when she had seen the silver dust falling over him.

"Lizzie," Jack turned around, pulling her onto his lap. "That was my choice."

Elizabeth closed her eyes, putting a hand to her mouth to stifle a sob. "You were right when you said that you keep saving my life, while I keep taking yours," she whispered shakily. "I did it again."

"You didn't do anything," Jack cradled her face in his hands, and she opened her eyes, hot tears slowly rolling down her cheeks. "And I'm not dead either. Yet," he added, risking a smile, and brushing the tears off her face with his thumbs. But it only made Elizabeth cry even more. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and pressed warm kisses to his cheek and his lips.

"You shouldn't have come for me," she said quietly in a quivering voice.

"I'd come for you to the inside of a volcano, to the middle of the sea, and to the hell itself, Lizzie," he said propping her chin with his hand. "There's nothing you could do or say to stop me from coming for you," he added with a smile and kissed her. "Remember that."

She smiled brokenly, leaning into him. "I love you," she whispered, running her hands over his face, his neck, his shoulders.

"It's hardly surprising considering what I've just said," answered Jack with a twitch of his nose, and a flash of amusement in his eyes. Elizabeth hit him playfully on the shoulder, smiling through her drying tears. "Not to mention all the things I'd done before I said that," added Jack with a roguish smile.

Elizabeth laughed, pressing her lips to his neck. "Jack!" she drew back, trying to catch the cover that he had snatched away from her, throwing it onto a chair.

"What is it, luv?" he asked, gently pushing her onto her back, and hovering over her.

She smiled, cupping the side of his face with her hand. "I thought you were going to take the helm?" she asked, raising her eyebrows.

"I actually changed me mind," he said nuzzling her hand, and leaning down, his dreadlocks brushing against Elizabeth's skin and making her giggle. "I think I will take something else first," he added, grinning. Elizabeth laughed and opened her mouth to retort, but her answer got lost in the heat that suddenly took her breath away...

* * *

"Captain Fiero."

Ameerah's hand dropped to her side before she had the time to knock on the Captain's Quarters door. She turned around with a smile. "Your Highness," she gave James a small nod, her eyes studying his face with intensity that seemed to counter her smile, or at least was making it seem less genuine.

James smiled, not showing any signs of being surprised by her knowledgeable remark. "Perhaps you would like to join us for a meal in the galley?"

"Oh, that's very thoughtful, thank you," she said, still smiling, but not moving an inch away from the door.

James waited for a moment for her to do or say something yet, but she just looked at him. "Is there anything I could help you with?" he asked, a part of him wondering why exactly was he acting as some kind of a guard to Jack... and Elizabeth of course, but that was more understandable... even though it perhaps should not be, considering- He scolded himself inwardly for his useless musings. Elizabeth certainly had an uncanny ability to get into one's head... but getting her out of one's head was much more difficult.

"Are you yet another reception committeer, Admiral?" she asked with a sparkle of amusement in her eyes, although there was a hint of a vague warning in her voice.

But James looked at her with such calmness, that it caused a glimpse of confusion flash across her face.

"I hope that you had fair weather on your way from Shipwreck Cove, captain," said James levelly.

"I did," answered Ameerah with a smile. "Had I come a while earlier, I would've witnessed the voting," she added, finally taking a step away from the door.

James smiled. "You were in Shipwreck Cove, then."

Ameerah's eyes slightly narrowed. "I spoke with Captain Teague," she said, slightly annoyed by her inner, abstract urge to explain herself.

"It is a curious thing, then," said James, clasping his hands behind his back, his eyes fixed on her, "that you have heard about the elections, but have not heard about Captain Sparrow getting married," he said, glancing at the door.

Ameerah's mouth twitched, and it took her a moment to think of a sharp reply, but before she opened her mouth to speak, James gave her a small, slightly sardonic smile, and turned around, heading for the galley.

She sighed irritatedly and watched him go, slowly tucking her hair behind her ear.

* * *

Very cautiously and careful not to wake her, Jack quietly disentangled himself from Elizabeth's embrace and the bedsheets. He brushed her hair off her face and softly kissed her on the lips. Elizabeth smiled in her sleep, snuggling into a pillow.

Perhaps it was slightly unfair to exhaust her so much that she had fallen asleep in the middle of the day, although it was not his primary intention...

He smirked, and trailed a few kisses down her arm before sliding off the bed and grabbing his shirt from the floor.

He needed to have a conversation with their unexpected guest, and it was rather fortuitous if Elizabeth would miss it. She would only be unnecessarily annoyed by the idea, even if his only motivation was to find out what was the reason for that visit, as well as... asking Ameerah not to aggraviate Elizabeth on every possible occasion.

Jack snorted to himself under his breath, pulling on his boot. Of course he would not ask that of her, because it would only encourage her to aggraviate Elizabeth even more.

He walked around the bed in search of his other boot which Elizabeth had thrown somewhere in the corner. He bent down to pick it up, and sat in a chair to put it on, his eyes shifting to Elizabeth who stirred in her sleep.

For a moment he just looked at her. She slept so peacefully, and he wanted to believe that it was because she felt safe here, safe on the _Black Pearl_, safe with him... and not because she was simply tired. He looked away, absently scanning the surroundings. It was another thing how safe she really was... He had told the Governor that no life could guarantee perfect safety, and that was true... But now it suddenly dawned at him that for once he actually wished that it would have been possible to make sure that she was perfectly safe...

He stood up, and went over to the bed, carefully tucking the cover around Elizabeth's shoulders before walking out of the cabin and quietly closing the door behind him.

* * *

His thoughts seemed to be scattered everywhere... but in his mind. They were swirling around him, he could almost see them, but could not catch them... They lingered just out of reach, just an inch too far for him to understand them... Calypso's words echoed in his head but he could not grasp their meaning... Neither could he grasp the meaning of her tone, so strangely remorseful...

"_Love' s not pain."_

Subconsciously, he extended his hand with the silver gun and fired, silver dust falling over the body of the dying man whose eyes fluttered shut, the surprise in them fading away along with his life.

"What do we do with him, Sir?"

"And what do you do with the cargo that no longer has any value, Mr. Mercer?"

The voices drifted to him as if out of nowhere, and he blinked trying to focus on what was happening.

"_Love's freedom._" She had said those words with that all knowing, chilling smile, and for a brief moment he had just wanted to turn around and run... Her words made no sense and it irritated him that she was saying them. It was her fault in the first place. It was her who had bargained her own freedom sending _her _into the past, wasn't it? ...Into the past and...into his arms?...

He closed his eyes vaguely remembering holding her, holding _Elizabeth_ when she had fainted...

"He might have been useful..."

"Mr. Mercer. Are you questioning my orders?"

The rest of the conversation escaped him. He turned around, glancing through the veil of sparkling silver falling over Barbossa's body, and catching a glimpse of a man in a white wig.

...And he absently thought it strange, that a person destined to live for such a long time should have such a sharp, unpleasant voice.

* * *

"You should've invited me for the wedding."

Jack widened his eyes in surprise at finding Ameerah standing right in front of the Captain's Quarters door when he opened it.

"Didn't have the time to send any invitations," he said, giving her a small smile, and stepping into the corridor.

"Smart girl. Didn't give ye the time to change yer mind," Ameerah narrowed her eyes at him in a smile.

Jack snorted under his breath. "Actually it was the other way around," he smiled, and Ameerah found herself annoyed by the strange expression that appeared on his face; she could almost see memories flashing through his mind and it brought back some of her own memories. She returned his smile with difficulty.

"Are you surprised or simply not happy with the fact that I'm here?" she asked in a more serious tone, turning around to face him, and blocking his way down the stairs.

Jack widened his eyes at her. "Not at all," he said, gently moving her aside, and walking past her. "As I've mentioned before... we're in a hurry-"

"In a predicament, you mean," cut in Ameerah following him down to the rum cellar.

He opened his mouth to start a sentence with an endearment, but quickly remembered not to. "Constantly," he grinned. "But the remedy is quite attainable, time being the only real source of trouble at the moment," he said, pulling out a collection of keys, and scrutinizing them in the half-darkness, his forehead wrinkled.

Ameerah laughed. "You seem to be forgetting all those neatly lined up ships that are not far behind."

"That's a more general predicament," said Jack, putting one of the keys into the lock and pushing the door open.

"And one that a married man is not that concerned with, aye?" Ameerah walked into the cellar after him, taking a lamp from the corridor's wall and placing it on one of the cellar's shelves.

Jack stood with his back turned to her, his eyes scanning the rows of rum bottles. "It's in the past, Amee," he said in a low voice, pulling out two bottles of rum, turning around, and handing her one of the bottles.

She snorted, slowly taking the bottle from his hand, looking at him intently. "I'm not being mean. Neither am I trying to remind you that you once said you couldn't marry me 'cause that would ruin your name," she said glancing at him while uncorking the bottle. Then she squinted and grimaced. "Did I just say it?"

"You did," agreed Jack with a humorless smile, gesturing for her to seat down.

"Either my sense of humor lost its quality, or you don't find my sense of humor to your liking anymore," she said taking a seat on one of the barrels.

Jack sat down opposite from her and did not smile. "May I inquire..." he knitted his eyebrows, shifting his eyes from the rum to her, "as to the reason for your most amiable, of course, visit?"

Ameerah took a swig from her bottle, the drink not burning her throat half as much as his words did. "One would think I've done something wrong," she said putting the half-empty bottle away and crossing her arms over her chest.

Jack looked away for a moment, rubbing his temple. "You came to discuss the events that occurred more than five years ago, then?" he asked in a low, serious voice, looking back at her.

She smiled and tilted her head backwards, resting it against the wall. "The events that occurred. Oh Jack," she laughed and shook her head, but after a few moments her facial expression turned solemn, and she returned her eyes to him. "It was more then that," she said quietly, swiftly getting up, and sitting back down on the barrel right next to Jack, who at the same moment with equal swiftness rose to his feet.

Ameerah bit the inside of her cheek. "Don't tell me you're going to be an exemplary husband from now on," she said, forcing an amused smile, and standing up as well.

"Why not?" asked Jack, attempting to sound lighthearted. "Seems to be only right to behave commendably when one is in command, aye?" he grinned, and quickly took a swig from his bottle, trying to come up with some kind of solution. Apparently, Captain Fiero's mind was firmly set on something, and whether she had some external reasons, or was simply aggravated by the news of his marriage, it was going to cause trouble. And the last thing that he needed at the moment was having Elizabeth to be upset with him for no reason. And upset Elizabeth was a very unpredictable phenomenon. And having so many people, entities, and other creations after them it was better to be in control of everything. And unpredictable Elizabeth was not something to be easily controlled. Not that a happy Elizabeth was easy to control, but still. He smiled to himself and sighed inwardly, wondering when keeping her safe became his most important priority. In a sense it must have been already on the day when they had first met... Both times, actually, he thought with a smirk. When she had come to him _in the past _it was also her safety that troubled him, the inner necessity to make sure that nothing, absolutely nothing bad could have happened to her-

"Jack!"

He cringed and widened his eyes at Ameerah.

"Are you listening to me?" she asked, wrinkling her nose.

Jack raised his finger and said in a serious voice: "I forgot my hat," and with that turned around and headed out of the cellar, leaving Ameerah with a confused look on her face. It was not exactly the reply she had expected to receive upon telling him that her feelings have not changed...

* * *

"Where have you been?"

Calypso spun around, her lips slowly stretching into a broad smile. "Have you missed me?" she asked, slowly walking toward the organ, her steps soundless, her sparkling eyes barely visible in the almost perfect darkness.

Davy Jones was sitting at his instrument with his back turned to her, a weak orange flame of a single candle illuminating the golden locket lying next to it. "Why should I miss you?" he asked sternly. "You come and go... don't expect you to return when you disappear anymore," he said in a sharp voice, not quite succeeding in sounding more bitter than sad.

Calypso stopped right behind him, and placed her hands on his shoulders, slowly sliding them down his arms. He stiffened, but did not push her hands away. She smiled.

"Every journey has an end," she said leaning down, her lips hovering close to his ear. "Every end is a reversed beginning..." she pressed her cheek to his, and his eyes widened at the sensation, a strange feeling overwhelming him, as incomprehensible as the fact that his skin – where it was touching hers - felt human again. "Because every beginning starts at the end..." she encircled his chest with her arms and closed her eyes. "Ye have to trust me. I risked everything 'cause I trust ye... but ye need to believe in me."

Davy Jones sighed, letting his eyelids fall over his eyes. "Believe in you," he echoed almost absently, for the first time allowing his memories flicker freely across his mind.

"Aye. Ye said it was all done 'cause of love, so..." she brushed her lips over his cheek. "So it shall be undone with love... if love... is really what it should be..."

"And if it is not?" he asked in a hollow voice, opening his eyes, and her eyes fluttered open as well. They looked for a moment at the dying candle, the flame disappearing into the dark air, a faint shadow of smoke lingering in the darkness for a moment yet. Calypso pressed her lips to Davy Jones' ear, and whispered in a gentle voice:

"If it's not... then we're all lost."


	56. Chapter 56

A/N: _**Thank you so much for all the wonderful reviews! **_**:)**

Disclaimer: PotC belong to Disney.

**Chapter 56**

Jack went back to his cabin, muttering under his breath and trying to figure out Ameerah's true reason for visiting. No doubt she had some specific reason (or perhaps even more than one reason) and something was telling him he was not that reason (even though it would have been perfectly understandable if he was).

He opened the door and walked into the cabin, coming face to face with Elizabeth, already dressed in breeches and boots, and a half-buttoned shirt. She smiled at the sight of him, but he narrowed his eyes at her, and quickly crossed the room, walking toward her.

"I thought you were tired, luv," he said looking her up and down.

Elizabeth rolled her eyes. "We're not going back to the discussion concerning me staying below, are we?" she asked lifting her hands to continue buttoning her shirt, but Jack took her hands in his, gently pushing them away.

"No, we're not. Which doesn't change the fact..." Elizabeth bit her lip, watching him buttoning her shirt with a small smile. "That if I leave you fast asleep, and in the next moment find you wide awake, that makes me a tad bit..." Jack twitched his nose, struggling with the last button. Elizabeth helped him and then pressed a quick kiss to his lips. He smiled. "Tad bit anxious."

"Anxious?!" Elizabeth wrapped her arms around him, leaning her cheek on his shoulder. "But I'm a pirate. Pirates can take care of themselves, can't they?" she asked with pretended seriousness, biting back a smile.

Jack smiled, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Aye. But... I just can never be sure where you are, or what you are up to-" he said, embracing her, and placing one hand on the back of her head, his fingers slowly threading through her hair.

Elizabeth laughed. "I also know one such person."

"Do you?" asked Jack with false astonishment.

"I do," she nodded, snuggling her face into his chest. "Quite thoroughly, actually."

Jack propped her chin with his finger, and made her laugh again by playfully blowing her hair off her face, and then kissing her quite thoroughly on the lips.

* * *

"Captain Fiero," James smiled at her kindly. "I see you decided to join us, after all," he said rising to his feet when Ameerah walked into the galley with a sour look on her face.

"I did," she said through her gritted teeth, forcing a smile.

"Please," James gestured for her to sit down.

Ameerah glanced around the table, quickly scanning all the faces. Governor Swann looked at her with calm interest, and so did Bill Turner. There were also several other crew members seated at the table, already busy with their meals. Will was not in the cabin, having gone on the deck to see if they were still not being followed.

Ameerah slumped into a chair, and gave weak smile to Ragetti, who put a plate in front of her. She warily looked around, thinking about something else, and not even hearing Ragetti's question as to what she would like to drink. When he received no answer, he wanted to repeat his question, but James shook his head wordlessly telling him to leave her alone, so he shrugged his shoulders and proceeded to Governor Swann, who this time decided not to argue, and accepted whatever Ragetti insisted that he should try eating and drinking.

In some odd sense, the Governor began feeling comfortable on the _Black Pearl_, repeatedly catching himself not even thinking about his situation as dreadful and absolutely unacceptable anymore. There was a certain, strange feeling of peace overwhelming him from time to time when he was looking out at the sea... And he was gradually understanding better and better Elizabeth's attachment to the ocean, her attachment to this ship, to this man... And for the first time he suddenly believed that she really could, that she really was going to be happy here.

He smiled to himself, absently carrying a bit of food from the plate to his mouth. He was about to eat the small piece of meat, but something in the look of it stopped him, and he just stared at it for a moment, blinking.

"What is it?" he asked in a low voice, looking at the slice suspiciously.

Pintel, who was sitting next to him wrinkled his forehead, and looked from the Governor to the piece on his fork, and then at the Governor again. Governor Swann glanced at him expectantly. Pintel looked at his own plate distrustfully, and in a firm voice stated:

"This is a very good question, pop."

The Governor blinked at the word, and after a moment of consideration decided that a breath of fresh air might be definitely in order right now for more than one reason.

* * *

"Do you fear death?" Davy Jones narrowed his eyes at Barbossa, all the eyes of the _Flying Dutchman_'s crewmen fixed on him as well.

Barbossa glanced at Tia Dalma who was standing at the bow of the ship, watching the scene with mild interest, absently fingering the locket in her hand. He wondered if she had known that his life would have ended so soon again when she had brought him back to life?... Her facial expression betrayed nothing and he was not sure what to think. Even though it probably did not matter much, did it? His life was over.

"I was dead once already," he said, shifting his eyes back to Davy Jones. "I wasn't afraid then, I'm not afraid now."

Davy Jones snarled contemptuously. "And haven't learned a thing in between, have you?" he asked suddenly in a surprisingly non-menacing voice.

Barbossa knitted his eyebrows, eyeing Jones suspiciously. Tia Dalma smiled from afar, turning away from them and staring out at the sea.

* * *

Governor Swann headed for the stairs that led onto the main deck with certainty that made him feel a bit uneasy. He was beginning to know his way around this ship decidedly too well.

As he reached the corner of the hallway he heard laughter, and after taking a few more steps he caught the sight of Jack and Elizabeth... dancing across the corridor.

"You hold me too tight!" complained Elizabeth with a gleeful smile, holding onto Jack's shoulders when he swirled her around, trapping her between the wall and himself.

"It's not possible," he countered in a serious voice, shaking his head vigorously, his dreadlocks brushing against the sides of Elizabeth's face. She giggled, bringing her hand to his cheek. "I hold ye as tightly as always."

"That's what I meant," cut in Elizabeth matter-of-factly. "When people dance, they're not supposed to be that close, married or not," she said haughtily, thrusting up her chin.

Jack narrowed his eyes at her. She looked at him with laughter in her eyes, and the Governor watched with wonder and soothing exhilaration the sparkles in her eyes that glittered with such joy that he had always only thought possible in those books which her mother had been buying for her in excessive amounts.

"Is that so?" asked Jack, brushing his lips over Elizabeth's.

"Jack..." she whispered, and closed her eyes. "It's really not-"

"It's really not...?" he asked continuing to nuzzle the side of her face.

She laughed. "It's really not a good idea for you to be doing this again. If you're to _ever_ arrive on deck, that is," she added quietly, turning her head to the side.

Jack chuckled under his breath. "I may arrive on deck tomorrow, as far as I'm concerned," he said, burying his face in the crook of her neck, and pulling her closer.

Elizabeth leaned her cheek on his shoulder and they stood like that for a while without saying anything.

Governor Swann soundlessly withdrew from the scene, smiling faintly, and taking a few silent steps backwards until he lost the sight of them.

* * *

"So..." Ameerah reached for an apple and bit into it, her eyes fixed on the fruit, while all the other eyes focused on her. "You're going after Davy Jones' heart?" she asked, looking up and meeting James' intent gaze.

Before he had a chance to answer, she said with a smile: "I take it as an aye," and rose to her feet. "So it seems that we have at least one thing in common," she added, and having taken a brief, assessing look around the cabin, left the galley.

* * *

Governor Swann stood by the rail, staring out at the sea, and going in his mind through all the recent events, from Elizabeth and Will's wedding interrupted by Beckett, Elizabeth's escape, him being forced to work for Beckett until Elizabeth and Jack had rescued him from the _Endeavor_... That was his first longer encounter with Jack Sparrow. He remembered Beckett's alluding remarks concerning Elizabeth that Jack had kept dismissing with nonchalance that he long since had learnt to regard with caution. He remembered Jack and Elizabeth's argument in front of him, remembered Jack's face when he had dived after Elizabeth, whose legs got tangled in a rope, and then he had rescued her – for the second time from drowning... but for which time in general count?...

Then he had witnessed Sao Feng's visit, and it was then when he had begun suspecting that there was more between them that met the eye... and his suspicions were soon confirmed when Elizabeth confided in him, confessing her feelings for... her future husband, no less. He sighed at the memory of a certain very memorable note: _Captain Groom and Beautiful Bride_.And he smiled at the memory of Elizabeth's face just a moment ago, at the memory of both of their faces, actually; of the way they looked at each other. They were in love, that was quite clear, he imperceptibly shook his head with a soft chuckle. But there was also something else. They were _fascinated_ with each other, and the mutual admiration that he had seen in their eyes somehow managed to put his mind at peace. He had feared that his daughter might have never met somebody whom she would have not only respected, but also admired. And although he had obviously never imagined that the man to capture her attention and conquer her heart would have been a notorious rogue, an outlaw, a _pirate_, he finally began accepting her choice (not having much choice in the first place, he thought with a dry smile) and feeling happy for her - finding the greatest reassurance in seeing her happy.

He looked around speculatively, squinting. Accepting her choice was one thing, and _improving _it was another... Perhaps there was a chance of turning the man into an honest merchant yet? The stories he had heard, about Jack working for East India Trading Company seemed to serve as a good enough proof for his disposition toward less morally dubious activities than piracy. So maybe?...

With a sigh, the Governor rested his hands on the rail wondering whether his imagination was not running away with him. Either way, it was definitely worth trying. Once everything else was resolved, once the peace was restored, he would try discussing it, first with Elizabeth, and then... Well. With Elizabeth, and then Elizabeth could discuss it with her husband... maybe.

* * *

Jack dismissed Mr. Cotton from the helm, and took his place, regarding the horizon with narrowed eyes. If they would not encounter any new problems and the weather would be kind to them, they could reach Port Royal around noon on the following day, which would leave them with a day and a half for finding the heart and... doing something with it.

Jack's eyebrows knitted, and he exhaled slowly, tapping his fingers on the wooden spokes. He could do with a number of more concrete ideas.

"What a rare sight."

Jack swiftly turned his head and glanced at James, squinting. "I'm here more often than not," he retorted with a faint hint of annoyance in his voice.

"I must have missed that _common _sight, then," replied James with a smile, stepping forward and standing next to helm, looking toward the sea.

"It wouldn't be the first mistake you made," observed Jack, subconsciously pulling out his compass, and flipping the lid open, but when he looked at it, he rolled his eyes, and put it away with an inward smirk.

"Still broken?" asked James, ignoring Jack's latest allusion.

"It was never broken," answered Jack, his inward smirk slowly creeping onto his face.

James looked away with a frown, trying to push his thoughts concerning the reasons for Jack's joyful facial expression off his mind. "Broken is a matter of perspective," he said, glancing at Jack, but averting his eyes before Jack looked at him. "I think you may add one more person to your list," started James taking a sharp intake of breath, and quickly changing the subject of the conversation, unwanted images of Mr. and Mrs. Sparrow in all the situations he had seen them all of a sudden springing to his mind, making him feel, again, all the regret he had thought was gone for good.

He could have asked her to marry him earlier. He had had her father's permission three years afore Jack Sparrow dived into their lives. Why had not he done that? He was always quick at making decisions, and the right decisions too. And yet in this case he had missed his chance. How would it be to always have her by his side, see her smile everyday, share all the moments with her...

And when he was thinking about all of that, he suddenly realized that the regret he felt was not a bitter feeling of unjust disappointment; it was merely melancholy, a thoughtful realization that something was gone, lost, that a part of his life was closed, impossible to be redone. He had redone so many aspects of his life, finally finding the right path, as it seemed. Finally choosing the right side... no matter how wrong it was. Maybe there was something about being a Pirate King, something more than just a bizarre title imposed on him by a collection of rogues and his own destiny. Maybe he could do something with it, something good. Maybe he could be a good Pirate King?...

"...Captain Fiero asked about the heart," said James, absently finishing his sentence, and ignoring all the sentences that Jack had said while he had been drifting away in his thoughts.

Jack opened his mouth to speak, but before he had a chance to ask James anything, he walked away with what Jack considered a very puzzling, strangely complacent, and almost prophetic expression on his face that could bode as well ill as... well.

* * *

"Oh my. Did you have a fight here?"

Elizabeth spun around, startled to find Ameerah looking around the Captain's Quarters with a small smile on her face. The cabin still looked disarranged, as they had not really had the time to make it look orderly again. Even some of Jack's drawings were still lying on the floor, although Elizabeth had picked up most of them, smilingly making a mental note to draw some pictures of Jack and one day leave them on his desk as a surprise.

"No," Elizabeth grabbed Jack's hat for which she had offered him she would have gone to their cabin while he himself had already gone to the helm. She wanted to add something about the tempest, and about the ship being attacked, but then decided that she did not need to explain herself to this woman.

Ameerah smiled and went over to the bookshelves, brushing her hand over the books in an absent gesture, that somehow annoyed Elizabeth more than it perhaps should.

"We've established a custom of knocking before entering any cabin," observed Elizabeth dryly, wishing for Ameerah to leave as soon as possible, so she would not be tempted to get into the argument with her...

... not to mention throwing a couple of paperweights at her, she thought glancing at Jack's desk.

Ameerah swirled around, a broad smile on her face, and Elizabeth did not fail to notice that she had turned around in a way strikingly similar to the way in which Jack would turn around. Whether she was doing it unconsciously, or for the sole purpose of irritating her, Elizabeth was not able to determine.

"I don't know if you'll be able to turn this ship into a mansion," said Ameerah, approaching Elizabeth, and still pretending to be very much interested in the way the cabin looked like, her eyes scanning the surrounding.

"I have no such intention," retorted Elizabeth rather sharply, crossing her arms, and pressing Jack's hat to her chest.

Ameerah's eyes flickered to the hat for only a second, before focusing on Elizabeth's face. "May I ask..." started Ameerah with a sweet and friendly smile, ignoring the edginess of Elizabeth's tone. "How have you met? You and Jack. Must have been an interesting story," she said looking her up and down speculatively, reminding Elizabeth of the way women always looked at each other's dresses during the winter balls in London.

"I fell from the sky straight into his arms," replied Elizabeth, narrowing her eyes in a small, artificial smile.

Ameerah laughed. "Alright. You don't have to tell me if you don't want to," she said, waving her hand dismissively.

Elizabeth bit back a sincerely amused smile, but did not bother assuring Ameerah that she had, in fact, told her the truth.

"We've met in Tortuga," said Ameerah, answering the question that Elizabeth had no intention of asking.

"You do forgive me if I ask you to leave?" Elizabeth interrupted her in the most polite voice she could muster. Ameerah darted her eyes to her. "I have to change my clothes," added Elizabeth, coming up with the simplest excuse. Somehow she knew that if she was to talk with this woman any longer, she would get so annoyed that the situation might turn very unpleasant, and she would rather keep up the appearances, if only for the sake of the general atmosphere on board. She tried to block the thoughts that were invading her mind every time she looked at Ameerah, the idea of her ever touching _her husband_ putting her in such a nauseatingly grim mood that she could hardly keep her countenance calm.

Ameerah lifted her hands, and interlaced her fingers, examining her nails with absent interest. "I still love him, you know," she said in a casual tone of voice, causing Elizabeth's eyes to widen. Ameerah looked up at her, catching, not without satisfaction, a glimpse of what she interpreted as confusion in Elizabeth's eyes.

Elizabeth had expected the woman to be annoying and arrogant, but _that _level of arrogance was really overwhelming. For a moment she found herself at a loss for words. But not for too long. "This is a somewhat _irrelevant_ piece of information and also one that I am definitely not interested in," she said at last through her slightly clenched teeth.

"He loves you, though," added Ameerah, this time really succeeding in confusing Elizabeth.

"And you caught up with the _Black Pearl_ just to tell me this?" asked Elizabeth irately, raising an eyebrow and looking at her intently.

Ameerah laughed. "You're funny," she said with a hint of sincere appreciation in her voice, and swiftly turned around heading for the door. "I didn't come here to steal him, if that's what you're afraid of," she said in a loud voice, opening the door. Elizabeth narrowed her eyes at her in annoyance, and was about to retort, when Ameerah glanced at her over her shoulder and added with a smile: "But he won't love you forever either." And then she was gone, the door slamming shut behind her.

Elizabeth glared at the door for a moment, irritated with herself for her lack of ability to respond quickly to that kind of infuriating comments. She had no troubles bantering with Jack, and she had thought that she could banter and argue skillfully with anyone, but somehow that woman had kept throwing her out of balance.

"Of course not!" she shouted, and grabbed one of Jack's paperweights from his desk, and threw it forcefully at the door with an exasperated groan. "He will love me longer than forever!" Then she firmly placed Jack's hat on her head, and slumped into his chair with an angry pout.

* * *

Having given the orders, Beckett retreated to his cabin, a satisfied smile playing about his lips. There was nothing that could go wrong. Everything was planned out perfectly.

In a few hours, at dusk, his soldiers would board the _Black Pearl_, lock those whom he considered useful in the _Endeavour_'s brig, kill those of no consequence.

The Governor would be locked in a cabin where they could later discuss a certain arrangement concerning his loyalty to the East India Trading Company... and his love for his daughter, of course. If he did not want to see her at the gallows, he would have to promptly agree to the offer that would guarantee her safety and after their arrival in Port Royal Davy Jones' rule over the seas would come to an abrupt end.

Beckett slowly walked into his cabin, and divesting himself from his coat, reached for a glass and placed it next to a bottle of brandy.

It was in fact a far better offer that the Governor could wish for. He would live forever, and as long as he would act loyally toward the company his daughter would come to no harm. And even more than that. She would become _Lady Beckett_, and that was definitely more than a pirate harlot like her deserved.

He poured himself a drink, and lifted the glass to his lips. And would not it be entertaining to see her babbling about her pirate marriage? Ardently arguing that it was legal? As if it mattered, he thought with a snort, sipping on his brandy. Those pretty eyes sparkling with anger for as long as she would believe she had a chance against him. But then of course she would have to accept the facts: that if she did not want her father's heart to be stabbed and Jack Sparrow to be hanged, she needed to be obedient and do what she would be told to do by him – by her _husband_.

Yes, it was definitely much better this way. It would not have been even half as amusing if Jack Sparrow was dead already. Now it was going to be so much better... This revenge. He would not kill him, at least not too soon, not until he would receive a fair amount of pain, long hours of contemplating his ship's fate, his crew's fate, finally his wife's fate; long hours of imagining her in the arms of another.

With a contented sigh Beckett reclined in his chair and pulled out of his drawer a drawing that he had taken from the _Black Pearl_ when he had been there after jealousy-driven Mr. Turner had brought the ship to him.

He looked at the drawing, a smile creeping onto his lips. It was going to be a fairly sweet revenge, indeed.

* * *

Jack stared at the horizon, holding the wheel, and wondering what would Ameerah want with the heart of Davy Jones? Could it be the true reason for her being here? She had always been a rather dedicated treasure hunter, but then Davy Jones' heart was not an ordinary treasure, and she must be aware of that. So-

Jack stiffened, feeling somebody wrap her arms around his neck from behind, but then relaxed recognizing the exhilaratingly familiar scent of Elizabeth's hair. "I was just thinking about you, luv," he said tilting his head to the side, and pressing his cheek to hers, when she propped her chin on his shoulder.

"Liar," said Elizabeth, kissed him on the cheek, and ducked under his arm to stand between him and the helm.

"I was," insisted Jack with a trace of a roguish smile flickering across his lips, taking one hand off the wheel, and pulling Elizabeth closer. "I always am, even if I don't. Savvy?"

"Savvy," muttered Elizabeth with a sigh brushing her lips against his. He kissed her, sliding his hand up his arm, her neck, cupping her cheek. Elizabeth broke the kiss, and leaned her head on his shoulder. Jack took his hat off her head, and put it on his head. They stood in silence for a while, Jack stroking her hair, Elizabeth twirling the beads in his beard around her fingers.

The Governor, who happened to be still on deck, and was watching them out of the corner of his eye, shook his head, and walked away, smiling, and relishing the view of the ocean. He wondered why he had never noticed before how wonderful it was to just stroll across the deck looking out at the sea...

"Don't worry, Lizzie," whispered Jack into Elizabeth's hair after a longer moment of silence.

Elizabeth looked up, running her fingers across his face with a faint smile. "To whom we're going to give the heart, Jack?" she asked in a soft voice.

Jack smiled down at her. "I'm thinking that of we could make Tia Dalma stab the heart, that would solve the problem. Although she might be of a different opinion," he added wrinkling his nose.

Elizabeth chuckled under her breath. "Jack. I'm serious."

Jack rolled his eyes. "I know," he said, resting his forehead against hers. "And I'll find the way. You don't have to worry ab-"

"Jack," Elizabeth put her finger across his lips. "I want to worry. I want to worry _with you_. I don't want _you _to find the way. I want _us _to find the way. Me and I, you and I. Us," she widened her eyes at him meaningfully.

He drew his hand across her face. "Me brave and beautiful pirate bride," he kissed her on the nose and smiled.

Elizabeth giggled and snuggled her face into his chest, but then drew back, suddenly remembering something. "I had a little surprise visit," she said with a trace of irritation in her voice. "Captain Fiero came to inform me that she loves you," she said, looking at Jack intently.

Jack blinked, but then grinned. "But I love you," he said slowly in a low voice, leaning toward her, and relieved that she seemed only annoyed, but not angry. Although, knowing what Ameerah was capable of, it could change yet.

Elizabeth snorted. "She did say that as well," she said, pursing her lips. "It seems that your minds work quite alike."

"Lizzie," Jack silenced her with a soft kiss.

"I don't like her," said Elizabeth with a pout.

Jack sighed. "Do you know how many people on this ship I don't like?" he asked, mirroring her pout. "Not to mention all those people that I don't even know, except for knowing that I don't like them, in Port Royal, in London, who knows where."

Elizabeth smiled at him brightly and pressed her lips to his. "We'll maroon them all somewhere once we solve our other problems," she offered with a glint of amusement in her eyes.

Jack chuckled. "I'm sure there is something in the Code about marooning the King," he said with a sigh.

"Alright," Elizabeth giggled. "So we'll just maroon Will and Miss Fiero."

Jack raised his finger in the air. "And that might actually be a very good idea," he said matter-of-factly.

Elizabeth laughed.

They spent the following hours steering the _Black_ _Pearl_ together, until the sky turned a darker shade of blue, and the sun disappeared below the clear and smooth water surface...


	57. Chapter 57

A/N: _**Thank you so much for all the lovely reviews! **_**:)**

Spoiler: I think this chapter would make a fine ending to this entire story... Don't you think? lol

Disclaimer: Jack, Elizabeth, etc. belong to Disney.

**Chapter 57**

"Won't ye even look at me?" Calypso tilted her head to the side, her shadow illuminated by the setting sun sneaking into the room through the half-open door.

"I'm surprised you're still here," answered Davy Jones gruffly, proceeding to his instrument, and not even glancing at her over his shoulder.

He could not quite decide what he felt lately... since she had come... since she had told him that she was not to be blamed for leaving him, that she had not left him, but was taken away against her will... that there was nothing she could have done about that.

She wanted him to understand, and he did understand it, and yet... he could not make himself believe her, not completely, at least. After so many years of painful loneliness, of endless hours spent on contemplating his misery that had led him into the darkness and bitterness, he could not find his way back to the light so easily, as much as he wanted to... if he wanted to. Because sometimes he even doubted that he did... or perhaps he was just tired, so tired, too tired to believe... too tired to take the risk and trust her again... even though if her story, if _her truth_ was true, he did not have any reason to mistrust her in the first place...

And yet how could he know? How could he know what he really felt with his heart so faraway, in the hands of that despicable miscreant who did not know right from wrong, light from darkness, atonement from condemnation. In his eyes there were no differences, only measures, and even in his distorted, darkened mind Davy Jones could recognize in Beckett a both unworthy and dangerous opponent, for it was difficult to fight somebody who valued nothing at all except for his power, and at the same time such an opponent was not even worth fighting with. And yet it was the very man that had his heart... unless, Jack Sparrow would get it back and deliver it to him as it had been settled. And seeing that he had not choice...

Although of course there was always a multitude of disasters that could happen and intervene with all the plans.

"And where am I to go?" asked Calypso in a soft voice, her hands as smooth as her tone, reaching for him. Davy Jones turned around abruptly, shooting her a cold look. "My place is here," she added, her fingers dancing in the air, the back of her hand brushing over his cheek.

He turned his head, shoving off her hand. "Is it?" he asked with a snort. "I thought your place was everywhere. I thought there was no one place-"

"Ye have no reason to be angry,"Calypso interrupted her, narrowing her eyes, the gentleness gradually evaporating from her voice. "What happened to me was forged by my Destiny, and what happened to ye was forged by yours."

"If it's only _Destiny_ that forges our fates," fumed Davy Jones grimacing, and staring down at her with all the false contempt he could muster, "then why does it matter what I feel or say? It will all lead to the same end."

A small smile flickered across Calypso's lips, but she quickly suppressed it. "Destiny is only a pattern, and what ye do with it it's yer own choice," she said, studying his face intently, and he had a strange impression that her gaze was changing him, causing the curse to melt, bringing out from within the darkness his true self... as much as he could tell... hardly remembering his true self.

But there was the undeniable light in her eyes; dark, enticing light that had drawn him to her at the beginning and never let him go ever since... and he had always kept the memory of this light with him; it was living within him, within his memory, within his heart...

_How strange_, he thought looking at Calypso's face with unseeing eyes; her presence was making him feel what he had thought was lost to him - because of his own doing – forever. How could he even feel this after so many years? How could the light in her eyes not fade? How could he still want to believe her every word no matter how well he knew that she was not telling him the full truth? Even if she knew it herself...

How could he still love her with his heart being miles away?...

"Ye may have carved out yer heart," Calypso cupped his cheek with her hand, startling him out of his reverie. He looked at her, not even surprised that she seemed to be reading his thoughts. _Hasn't she always? _"But ye didn't carve out de feeling."

He snarled, bitterness flashing in his eyes. "Keep your fallacious stories to yourself, witch," he snapped, raising his hand to push her hand away, but when he touched it he cringed and paused, his eyes locking with hers, and for a moment he felt as if none of it had never happened, as if he had never stepped aboard the _Flying Dutchman_. "Witch," he rasped in a low, cracking voice, and she smiled, but when she did, a few tears rolled down her cheeks, and his eyes widened.

And there she was again in front of him, a beautiful mystery that had written itself in his heart irretrievably, her eyes exactly as he had seen them for the first time... her face... her smile...

Without thinking, he reached out and hastily brushed the tears away.

"Will we ever reconcile?" she asked quietly, distinctly, still holding onto the smile on her face, even though her eyes were crying.

He dropped his hand to his side and looked at her. "Reconcile?" he whispered at last, and then grasped her arm and pulled her toward him, his grip loosening. "If love is a reconciliation-" he started almost inaudibly, but did not finish, for her lips were on his in an instant, and the darkness tossed and turned until he could see nothing but light, and the flickers of the past that were falling over him like drops of life-bringing rain.

* * *

"Luv?" asked Jack with a smile, when after asking him to leave the helm to Gibbs, Elizabeth had taken him by the hand and led him below deck.

She did not even glance at him over her shoulder, but he could see a smirk flickering across her lips when she opened the door to their cabin, and walked inside, pulling him with her, and then slamming the door shut and pushing him against it.

"Oi," said Jack quietly, when his hat slid over his eyes due to the sudden motion.

Elizabeth giggled, took his hat off his head, and threw it behind her, causing Jack's eyes to widen in mute astonishment at such a treatment of his tricorn.

"One more 'oi' and you'll go back to the helm and spend your night talking to the stars," she whispered threateningly, untying her hair and shaking it free over her shoulders.

Jack cradled her face in his hands, grinning. "The one star I can see right now is quite enough," he said, brushing his thumbs over her lips. "Do you even know how-"

"Yes, yes, I know how _beautiful_ I am," interrupted him Elizabeth in a pretendedly bored tone of voice. "You keep saying it every time I meet you, in the past, in the present... so perhaps you could attempt to be more original in the future?" she said, smiling gleefully and tilting her head to the side.

Jack' facial expression turned from jokingly offended to an amused one. "Me dearest wife doesn't even know what she is asking for," he whispered outlining the contour of her mouth with his lips.

Elizabeth shivered, and pressed herself closer to him. "I'm willing to take the risk and find out," she said quietly, struggling to keep her eyes open and look at him, his dark eyes sparkling in the darkening cabin, his hands warm on her skin, his breath hot on her cheek...

"Do you even know... how much I love you?" he asked in husky voice, his arms finding their way around her, wandering blindly across her back, her warmth radiating through the white fabric of the shirt she was wearing.

Elizabeth held onto his shoulders, inching her mouth to him, and pressing her lips to the side of his face. "How frightening," she muttered with a smile. "And yes, I do," she added after a pause, running hr fingertips along his arm, and feeling his muscles tense under her feathery light touch. "Do you?" she asked after a pause, turning her head, their lips meeting in a slow, tender kiss.

"I do," he whispered seriously, opening his eyes.

She gave him the brightest smile she could muster in her half-happy, half-anxious state of mind, trying not to think about their predicament at all, if only for a while. She ran her fingertips along his lips and then pulled him away from the door. "And now we'll play a game," she said pushing his coat off his shoulders.

Jack smirked. "I've to warn ye, luv, I _may_ not play by the rules," he said, leaning down and brushing a delicate kiss over her mouth.

"Oh, you will," said Elizabeth with a smile, wrapping his arms around his neck. "You'll like those rules, I assure you," she said resolutely, causing Jack's smile to widen.

"I'm all ears, then, Mrs. Spa-"Jack cleared his throat. "Mrs. _Captain _Sparrow," he corrected himself quickly.

"Very well," Elizabeth clapped her hands, and placed them on his shoulders. "So," she thrust up her chin and smiled. "It's very simple, really. You just have to mirror everything that I will be doing," she said cheerfully, and before Jack could inquire for further explications, her lips collided with his, and she kissed him ardently, sliding her mouth over his jaw line, his chin, and then placing a kiss in the opening of his shirt.

Then she drew back, and raised her eyebrow looking at him expectantly.

He grinned. "I do like this game," he stated, pressing a kiss to her lips and then repeating her actions. "However," he held up his finger, stopping her next move. "I think we should do it the other way around," he said, narrowing his eyes in a small smirk.

Elizabeth wrinkled her forehead in a pout, ready to protest at her losing the leading position in the game, but then Jack's hands found their way under her shirt, pulling her closer, his lips tracing a slow path of warm kisses along her collarbones, nibbling on the skin of her neck, and she thought that perhaps it was not such a bad idea after all...

"Jack..." she closed her eyes, and tilted her head backwards with a smile, but then opened them again, and gave him a surprised look when he stopped his ministrations.

"Yer turn, luv," he said, trying to keep amusement out of his voice.

Elizabeth blinked, and then narrowed her eyes at him in playful annoyance, and started repeating his actions, gliding her hands up his bare back, feeling the scars under her palms, her eyes locked with his. There was a glimpse of a strangely raw emotion in his eyes as her hands wondered over his skin, and so on an impulse, instead of doing exactly what he had done, she pressed a soft kiss to his lips, then looked at him and kissed him again and again until he started kissing her back, and the cabin began to spin ever so slowly when he reached for the hem of her shirt and pulled it over her head. She smiled and soon his shirt joined hers on the desk, and he swept her into his arms, carried her to the side cabin, and dropped her onto the bed, slowly lowering himself over her, but then she suddenly slipped out of his embrace and caused him to land flat on the bed, his face in the pillows. She laughed tucking her hair behind her ears, and knelt by his side.

"Lizzie, what-" he started to roll over, but paused, feeling her lips on his back and he waited for a moment to see what she was up to.

"I want to know the story behind each of them," she whispered against his skin, kissing his every scar and trailing feathery-light kisses all over his back.

He let himself relax, pressing his smiling face into a pillow with a sigh. "Not all of them are pleasant," he said in low voice, turning his head to the side, and twisting his hand slightly, reaching out, and awkwardly brushing the back of his hand against her bare arm.

Elizabeth glanced at him, and leaned forward placing a kiss on top of his nose. "I don't want pleasant stories, I want true stories. Other things are pleasant enough," she smirked, nuzzling his cheek, and they both snorted, their lips meeting in a soft kiss.

"Lizzie, Lizzie," he cupped the side of her face and pulled her into an embrace.

They lay on their sides, facing each other.

"What?" asked Elizabeth, laughing under her breath as Jack's fingers skimmed playfully across her back.

"I love you," he said quietly and Elizabeth looked at him for a moment, before smiling at him brightly, and cradling his face in her hands.

She kissed him on the mouth, and then kissed his shoulder, snuggling against him. "I love you," she whispered, and kissed both of his bullet scars before closing her eyes. "But you still owe me all of those stories, don't think that you can just hug them off my mind," she said, pressing herself yet closer to him.

Jack grinned tightening his embrace around her.

* * *

Ameerah walked across the corridor with an annoyed expression on her face. It was all not going very well. Everyone seemed grumpy and irritated, the ship was full of odd people, like that _King _for example, or that man in a wig, or... or that supercilious wench, whatever Jack Sparrow saw in her?!

She did not come here in hope of renewing their acquaintance, not exactly. Even though she was fairly curious when she had heard in Shipwreck Cove the rumors that he married someone... It was strange enough, to hear that... Even after all those months, years... She had wanted to marry him once, on a foolish impulse, but he treated it as such a ridiculous idea that she had felt ridiculous for even suggesting it. And yet, here he was: married. And to whom? She would not even call her beautiful. Not even pretty. She had a weird face, bony figure, ungraceful way of walking and irritating accent. How could he, _he_! marry someone like that? She could not possibly even know how to handle a sword not to mention doing anything else around the ship. And yet she... No. And yet he had chosen her. Hadn't he said so? That it was him that wanted to bind her to him and not the other way around? What was so special about her anyway?

Ameerah turned around the corner and stopped in her tracks leaning against the wall.

There was nothing special about her, apparently. He had just fallen in love. Like she had. With him. Thinking that once upon a time he had loved her too, even if he had never said it.

She crossed her arms over her chest with a sigh. Was it love on her side, or was it simply the fact that he had been, so far, the most interesting man she had ever met?

Perhaps it was just better to concentrate on her main reason for being here. Only... there was really nobody with whom she could discuss it. Jack and... that wife of his had vanished from sight, King James (as she decided to call him from now on) was too shrewd at this time of the day when she really felt rather tired and was in no mood for artful conversations. And there was really nobody else that would be competent enough, so it seemed she just needed to wait. Maybe tomorrow. Or when they would arrive in Port Royal... Yes, maybe then-

Ameerah cringed and jumped away from the wall taking a quick look around. A strange, scratchy noise caught her attention and she held her breath, listening carefully, but it did not resound again. She wrinkled her forehead, and slowly walked toward the stairs, her hand surreptitiously traveling to her sword. There was a shadow under the stairs, but she could not discern in the semi-darkness whether it was just emptiness looming in the dark, or whether something – or somebody – was there.

She took a few soundless steps, unsheathing her sword, but when she was very near, suddenly a rat jumped out from under the stairs startling her.

She jumped back with a gasp, and then huffed in annoyance. She put her sword away, and shook her head, turning around, and making to go away, but then she stopped.

A rat.

Weren't rats the sign of-

Slowly, she started to turn around again, but a cold blade on her throat stopped her.

"You will do wise not to scream," she heard somebody whisper into her ear in an unpleasantly silky voice.

She bit back a snort, and grabbed her pistol, but before she managed to use it she felt a blow being delivered to her head, and she fell to the floor, knocked unconscious.

* * *

Taking a lantern and a spyglass Will emerged on deck deciding to spend the night there, or perhaps in the crow's nest, if that was possible. He wanted to be as far away from everybody aboard as possible. Overhearing Elizabeth's laughter all the time or seeing the glimpses of _them _running around the ship like a pair of schoolchildren was really too much for him. He might have accepted what had happened, he might have acknowledged that their feelings were mutual _and_ sincere, but it did not change the fact that he felt as if somebody had robbed him from a part of his life, his heart, and he was not at all certain if he would ever get that missing part back. He was afraid that it was gone forever, even if there were some bright days awaiting him in the future.

He gave Gibbs a nod as he walked past him and directed his steps to the mast, calling to whoever was in the crow's nest, but getting no answer.

Rolling his eyes and hoping that whoever was up there was not as drunk as not to make his way back down, he placed the spyglass in his pocket, took the lantern's handle in between his teeth, and began to climb, quickly reaching the crow's nest.

The pirate who was there was apparently fast asleep, so Will tapped him on the arm to wake him up and scold him for dozing instead of being on alert in such an import-

Will's hand froze in the air as the pirate's head tilted to the side revealing a deep gash on the man's throat. Will's eyes widened and he opened his mouth to scream, but then a sight of a pistol aimed at him right in front of his face rendered him silent.

* * *

"You should rest, Governor," James gave Governor Swann a reassuring smile while they walked down the steps and toward the cabins.

"Do I have a choice?" asked the Governor with a half-thoughtful, half-amused smile. "I don't seem to be of any use here," he added looking away.

"This is not true," countered James seriously.

"Do you feel at home here?" the Governor inquired suddenly, looking back at him.

James looked at him for a moment, his eyebrows slightly furrowed, but then he snorted lightly under his breath, and smiled faintly. "I'm not sure I have established sufficiently firm notions concerning the idea of home to answer this question," he said, trying to keep a trace of remorse out of his voice. "But Elizabeth certainly does... feel at home here," he added, thinking that perhaps it could make the Governor feel better.

"Yes," Governor Swann eyed James thoughtfully. "She does. And it had been a mystery to me for a long time."

"Had been?" James echoed automatically, and was about to take his words back, but the Governor's smile stopped him.

"I'm beginning to feel here at home as well, I wonder what that means," he said with a small smile, which James returned sincerely.

"There is the calm in the sea that reaches deep into a man's soul," he said, not expressing, despite the Governor's expectations, a sense of hurt at the remark. "I still care for her," he added almost too quickly, afraid that his comment might have given a false impression. "I just..." he looked away with a sigh, "came to realize the difference between the reality of our wishes and our wishes' reality-" he trailed off and rolled his eyes. "There is something contagious about the man's speaking patterns," he muttered more to himself than to the Governor, who bit back a laugh. "I will see you in the morning, Governor," said James with a small nod, and walked away leaving the Governor in the corridor, near the cabin to which he had been assigned.

The Governor shook his head with a sigh, smiling slightly, and turning toward the door. He pressed the knob and walked inside, stopping at the unexpected sight of a candle sitting on his desk. Squinting, he took a step forward, but then he was grabbed from behind and shoved against the wall by at least two pairs of strong arms.

* * *

"Where are you going?" Elizabeth sat up in bed, wrapping her arms around Jack's neck from behind.

He took her hands in his and kissed each of them before answering. "I should be up there tonight, just in case..." he paused, not wishing to make her unnecessary anxious, "just in case I should be there," he concluded, glancing at Elizabeth over his shoulder and returning her kiss when she slanted her mouth across his.

"I refuse to share you with the helm every night," she muttered against his lips, wrapping he arms around him and trying to pull him back toward the headboard.

"Not every night, luv. Just some of the nights," he stated decidedly, planting a few kisses across her cheek.

Elizabeth suppressed a smile. "Even some of the nights. I'm your wife. How is it that I can't be the one telling you where you should be in every moment of your life?" she nestled her face in the crook of his neck, while slowly raking his fingernails down his arm.

Jack snorted. "How is it that I can't be telling you the very same thing, then?" he asked, attempting to sound not only serious, but almost offended.

Elizabeth pressed her lips to his skin in order to keep herself from laughing. "That's because," she started, drawing back slightly and squinting, but then she pressed her lips to his skin again, kissing his neck while thinking of a good retort. "That's because..." she sighed. "Oh, I don't know," she shook her head impatiently. "I'm sleepy," she said with a pout, resting her head on his shoulder.

Jack leaned his head on top of hers. "I tell ye what, Lizzie-darlin'. I'll go for a little while and then-"

"And then?" Elizabeth picked up on his unfinished phrase, but he kept silent, so she lifted her head and looked up at him. His eyebrows were knitted and he seemed to be listening to something intently. "Jack?"

"Did you hear that?" he asked quietly, his eyes fixed on the dark space of the main cabin visible through their bedroom's door standing ajar.

"Hear what?" Elizabeth tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, and followed his gaze. They stayed silent for a while.

"Stay here," said Jack at last, shooting her a serious look, and sliding off the bed, quickly putting on his breeches and grabbing his pistol from the floor.

Elizabeth looked between the darkened cabin and him for a moment, and then followed him, putting on her breeches, but unable to locate her shirt which she had left in the main cabin. With a mute huff, she took one of the blankets from the bed, and wrapped it around herself.

Slowly, Jack took a few, cautious steps toward the door, and carefully opened it wider. Elizabeth trailed right behind him, keeping a cutlass in her hand, and making sure her pistol was also tucked behind her belt.

"No reason to creep in the dark."

A voice startled them both, and suddenly the main cabin brightened as several lanterns were lit at once, and Elizabeth's eyes widened at the sight of at least a dozen of soldiers gathered in the cabin.

Beckett, who was standing in front of the bookshelf turned around, fixing them with his cool gaze. "I do believe we haven't finished our conversation," he said looking at Jack, and glancing at Elizabeth.

Jack's eyes skimmed over all the faces in the room before looking at Beckett again. "On the contrary. I thought we reached an agreement," he said evenly not lowering his pistol, and slightly extending his other hand to keep Elizabeth from stepping before him, something, he had no doubt she was capable of doing. "We're on our way to find a new captain of the _Flying Dutchman_."

"I can't remember that agreement," said Beckett indifferently. "And actually... I have found a new captain already, " he added with a trace of a sneer flickering across his lips.

"Have you now?" Jack smiled humorlessly, his finger fumbling with his pistol's trigger, even though he knew that killing the man now could not possibly better their situation.

"I have," confirmed Beckett almost joyfully, stepping forward. "And not only that," he added in a barely audible voice, glancing at Elizabeth.

Jack narrowed his eyes at him, but before he thought about asking anything more or doing anything, half of the soldiers in the cabin seized him by the arms, while the other half grabbed Elizabeth, pulling them away from each other and taking their weapons away from them.

Beckett watched Elizabeth thrash and shout, while Jack's steel gaze was fixed on him. "And I hope," said Beckett, turning to Jack, and walking toward him, "that you will always remember this day," he lowered his voice, "as the day," he stopped right in front of him and smiled, "when you lost everything."


	58. Chapter 58

A/N: _**Thank you so much for all the amazing reviews! **_**:)**

...& I'm sorry for the long wait! My school is keeping me insanely busy:/

Disclaimer: PotC belong to Disney.

**Chapter 58**

Books... Maybe there was something in the books?

His eyes lingered on a long row of shelves in the narrow hallway, a strange place to keep books... He wondered if they were here for the lack of a better place, out of negligence, or perhaps their owner had so many of them that his rooms could not contain them anymore?

He heard muffled sobbing coming from the bed chamber where silver dust must have been still falling over a young man of more or less his age at the moment of his own-

Torn words were cutting through the early morning silence, the rays of the sun so pale on the dark green carpet...

There was something in the books, he remembered... even though he had never read much... although he could not very well explain now why... Now that he looked at the neatly ordered covers, titles in black, silver and gold, familiar and foreign letters, stories hidden within.

He reached out for one of the books, opened it, and started reading, missing the title and the author, just falling into the tale, hoping to fall, and somehow...

_Maybe here_, maybe here was an answer, somebody must have known something about it, somebody must have been able to explain it... what was that feeling, what was the meaning of all this, and what was he doing wrong?...

* * *

Governor Swann glared at the men who were escorting him from his cabin up on the deck. When they reached it, he could hardly make out the shapes in the almost perfect darkness, a faint light emitted by several lanterns casting shivering rays over the dead bodies splayed on the deck. His eyes widened at the sight, and he scanned his surroundings with a cold feeling of dread.

There were also some members of the _Black Pearl_'s crew who were still alive, and were kept tied up near the rail. He spotted Will among them, and they exchanged a long, grim look, before the Governor's eyes shifted to the ship right next to the _Pearl_, and he briefly wondered how it was possible that nobody had noticed its approach... He blinked and something caught his eye... The _Endeavour_'s sails; The _Endeavour_'s sails... were black.

"What the hell is going on."

Will shifted his eyes to Ameerah who was standing next to him, and muttering curses under her breath while shooting murderous looks at the soldiers who were holding her in place, because even though her hands were tied, she kept kicking the soldiers' shins as much as possible, receiving from them cold glares in return.

"Maybe you should've stayed on your ship," observed Will noncommittally, looking away.

Ameerah darted her eyes to him. "Maybe you shouldn't follow your unrequited love like a half-dead puppy," she said, squinting. Will's eyes traveled back to her immediately. She snorted. "Easy to decipher from your eyes," she explained with a half-amused, half-cynical smile, and averted her eyes from him.

Will stared forward watching more soldiers emerge from below the deck. "Maybe you shouldn't follow yours," he retorted.

Ameerah bit back a smile. "I have greater reasons to be here," she said haughtily.

"Perhaps you should focus on them, then," replied Will stiffly.

"Thank you for the precious advice, Mr. Turner. I will be sure to follow," said Ameerah, her forehead wrinkling at the sight of Elizabeth and Jack being dragged up the stairs by a dozen of soldiers, the steady rhythm of Beckett's boots against the deck gradually breaking the evening silence. "Not good," she muttered under his breath.

Will glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. "Is ever anything good if Jack is involved in it," he snapped irritatedly in a low voice, thinking that it was all Jack's fault that Elizabeth was in danger; that all of them were in danger. It was all because of him, and not for the first time either.

Ameerah glanced at him, a small smirk flitting across her lips. "You don't really want to hear a descriptive answer to this question, do you?" she asked with a hint of amusement in her voice.

Will looked at her with an unreadable expression on his face, and a shadow of confusion that would have made her laughed if it was not for the predicament they were all in at the moment.

"Everybody's here, sir," one of the soldiers reported to Beckett, his voice unnaturally shrill in the soft darkness of the night.

Beckett's figure emerged from the dark, illuminated by the shimmering lantern light that gave him a slightly eerie look.

Governor Swann inhaled angrily at the sight of Elizabeth dressed only in breeches and a coat, barely buttoned and revealing that she was not wearing any shirt.

"Lock them below," said Beckett in a low, monotone voice to one of the soldiers, making a slight wave of his hand into Elizabeth and Jack's direction. "Him to," he added, his eyes meeting the Governor's gaze for a moment.

"You won't get away with this. We're being followed," announced Ameerah in a loud voice, attracting general attention.

Beckett unhurriedly turned around, regarding her with slightly raised eyebrows. Jack locked eyes with Elizabeth giving her a barely perceptible nod of his head, that did not go unnoticed by the Governor who tried to decide whether he should wait for something to happen, or rather do something decisive himself.

"Not the craftiest bluff, miss," said Beckett blankly, turning away from Ameerah who narrowed her eyes at his back, muttering more curses under her breath and causing Will to sigh ostentatiously and roll his eyes.

"What?" she hissed, darting her eyes to him, annoyed.

"Foul language is not going to help," observed Will dryly.

"Fools are not going to help either," retorted Ameerah.

"Silence!"

Ameerah's and Will's attention turned to Mercer who appeared in front of them, his cool eyes holding their gazes for a moment with chilling, unpredictable indifference. Then he took a few steps to the side, averting his eyes from them.

"And where is Mr. Nor-" Beckett's words were cut off by a shot being fired, the bullet swishing next to him and hitting one of the soldiers standing beside him.

For a moment everybody stood frozen to the spot, but only until Jack pushed one of the guards away with his tied hands and Gibbs followed his lead as did everybody else. Elizabeth used the commotion that had ensued all of a sudden, to maneuver herself out of the scene, hiding behind the staircase and trying to untie the rope that was binding her wrists together.

Beckett stood for a moment bewildered by the sudden mobilization of the pirates, who had been all tied up and gathered on deck, and yet in less than a minute they were almost all free, smashing their swords and cutlasses against EITC soldiers, firing their pistols on them and screaming on top of their lungs, something that somehow annoyed and distasted him most.

His eyes darted to James Norrington who had fired the first shot and was now engaged in a sword fight; and then as he began stepping backwards he caught a sight of Elizabeth disappearing behind the corner, and was about to follow her when he noticed Mercer doing just that. He snorted imperceptibly, at the same time thinking that he should have stayed aboard the _Endeavour_ and not had come here in person. But he had wanted to see the first impression on Jack Sparrow's face when he and his mistress would have been captured, and so now he would have to endure a bit of dust and blood on his newly polished boots.

It was not difficult to stay unnoticed in the semi-darkness, but he kept glancing impatiently toward the staircase not wishing to be here longer than it was necessary. Not everything was going according to the plan, and yet everything could work out well - if not better. Perhaps some slight modifications of his plan would be in order...

He heard a scream and sneered faintly when Mercer dragged Elizabeth out of her hiding spot before she had even managed to free her hands from the rope and join the fight.

Governor Swann, who had just gotten his hands untied by Ragetti's cutlass, was the first to notice her, even before Beckett called in his blank, unwavering voice that seemed not loud and yet prevailing astonishingly well over the noise on deck:

"Captain Sparrow!"

Jack pushed one of his opponents overboard and turned around, squinting.

Elizabeth stomped her foot with all her might over one of Mercer's boots and the man hissed in surprise and pain, loosening for a moment his grip around her, the knife on her throat falling out of his hand. Elizabeth immediately made to run, but somebody grabbed her from behind and yanked her backwards.

"Do you really think it will end the way you want it to?" asked Beckett, looking at her intensely, a ghost of a sarcastic smile flickering across his lips.

Elizabeth huffed in annoyance, and producing with her tied hands a small knife from a well-hidden pocket, she stabbed Beckett on the arm with it. "Yes," she breathed angrily, and ran away, and for a moment he just stared after her with wide eyes, but then he quickly recovered from surprise, and pulled the knife out of his arm, throwing it away with an angry hiss.

Jack ran through the clattering swords toward Elizabeth, meeting her half-way across the deck.

"I hope you don't carry knives on you at all times, luv," whispered Jack, brushing his lips across her cheek, and then doing it again, as much as it seemed absolutely ridiculous under the circumstances.

"Watch out!" Elizabeth pushed him aside before an enemy's sword could reach him, and Jack pulled her with him, swiftly cutting the rope around her hands with his own cutlass. "And no, I don't," she added with a half-nervous, half-amused smile, pressing her lips to his for a split second. "I don't think it's right to love somebody that much," she said seriously in a soft voice, holding his gaze for a moment. Then she smiled, and swirled around to head into the battle, but Jack's arm around her waist stopped her.

"I think it's very right," he whispered into her ear, and she smiled. "Get below, Lizzie. And lock yourself in the rum cellar," he added, sliding a key into her hand. She opened her mouth to protest, but he brushed his hand over her lips to hush her. "But don't burn it," he added widening his eyes at her meaningfully, and she found herself smiling, even though she tried not to.

Then Jack was forced to turn around to defeat two soldiers who were attacking him simultaneously from left and right. Elizabeth quickly assessed the situation, and decided that simply joining the fight was not going to help at all, although of course she had no intention of hiding below either.

"Elizabeth!" Governor Swann grasped the sleeve of Jack's coat that Elizabeth was wearing, turning her around gently but decidedly. "You should-"

"No. You should, father," Elizabeth interrupted him with a smile, pulling him away from the main deck, and almost pushing him down the stairs. "There is a small flight of stairs behind the corner on the left side," she said hurriedly, pressing the key against his palm. "The rum cellar. Please lock yourself there."

"Only if you will go with me," said the Governor, refusing to let go of her hand.

"Father," Elizabeth bit her lip, smiling at him reassuringly. "I know what I'm doing."

"You could listen to... your husband for once," said the Governor in a somewhat strained voice, glancing all over the deck, swords clashing in the almost perfect darkness, shouting and screaming echoing in the air, blood stains glowing oddly in the wavering light of rare lanterns.

Elizabeth's face brightened a little. "Are you going to side with Jack against me now, father?" she asked with a smile, and gave him a quick hug before he had a chance to answer. "You like him," she said quietly, drawing back.

"If I say that I do, will you go with me downstairs?" he asked doubtfully, raising an eyebrow.

Elizabeth laughed. "N-" They both cringed when a cannon was heard, muffling all the sounds of clinging metal. Elizabeth looked anxiously over her shoulder. "No," she said hurriedly, looking back at her father, and forcing a reassuring smile. "But I'd like to hear it nonetheless."

"Elizabeth," the Governor took her by the arms, pulling her lightly toward him. "I have never had a greater concern that your safety. Please do not argue with me now."

"Father-"

The Governor sighed. "And I do like him," he said, cutting her off. "I could not dislike somebody who makes you happy," he added in a low voice, at the same time thinking that it was really not the best time for family conversations.

Elizabeth smiled, blinking back the tears that had unexpectedly welled up in her eyes, and wanted to say something, but then she suddenly saw her father's eyes widening and somebody calling her name, but before she even made a move to turn around, the night closed around her and her mind went blank.

* * *

"Everything could've been different," muttered Davy Jones in a voice so low as if he did not wish for anybody to hear him.

"Everything is as it should be," came an answer, a sigh, and a delicate hand skimming across his chest.

He snorted, falling back onto the pillow, wondering whether he looked like he felt... It was too dark to tell, but he could feel the warmth radiating not only from the body of the woman beside him, but also from his own body... as incredible as it seemed. Could it even really be? "Are you trying to tell me that there are the laws of fairness that rule our paths?"

"Yes..." Calypso propped herself on an elbow, and looked at him. She could not see him in the darkness and yet her eyes could see his face so clearly, could make out every line on his face, every twitch of his mouth. "Secrets and second chances... all fair, all wrong, right, and true," she leaned her cheek on his shoulder. "And love is fair too..."

"Love?" Davy Jones laughed dryly, terrified by the coarseness of his voice that was so not used to laughing, and yet relieved that he still remembered how to laugh. "Love is least fair, the most unfair thing of all," he added thoughtfully.

"Only those who don't know what love is can say that," Calypso lifted her head and her eyes locked with his, even though they could not see each other.

"I know what love is," he said in a low, solemn voice, regret and remorse sounding through the annoyance with which he tried to fill it.

A sly, amused smile flickered across Calypso's face. "Do you?" she leaned closer. "Do ye know what it is? What it should be? What it does?" She kissed him on the mouth and drew back.

"What it does?" he asked in a low voice, wrinkling his forehead.

Calypso narrowed her eyes in a smile, ran her fingertips up his arm and breathed into his ear: "It kills."

* * *

_'Lizbeth!_ Jack's sword clashed against one of his opponent's, who in turn lost his balance and fell onto the deck. Knocking the sword out of his hand just in case, Jack jumped over him and rushed to the rail, a glimpse of golden hair catching his attention and causing his heart to start hammering in his chest. He was not sure, but he thought that he saw somebody carrying Elizabeth... He made his way across the deck, hoping that she was not hurt.

The _Black Pearl_ shook as a cannon ball was fired against the _Endeavour_, and only then he noticed that the ship's white sails were replaced by the black ones, making the ship much less visible.

"So it all comes to this."

Jack stopped in his tracks upon noticing Elizabeth laying on the deck of the _Endeavor_, unconscious, reminding him at once of when he had pulled her out of the water for the very first time. Was it their fate, to be always snatching each other from their graves?

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Mercer and several other soldiers disappearing below the deck, pushing somebody he could not see down the stairs.

Beckett pulled a sword out of its sheath, lifted it in the air, and looked at the blade glimmering in the faint light emitted by the moon which had just appeared on the sky, schools of dark clouds being pushed over it by the wind that had started picking up, and Jack inhaled sharply, sensing in the air a promise of a storm. He heard screams and splashes, guessing that apart from battling the opponent, his crew was also trying to get rid of the enemy on board, simply throwing the soldiers into the ocean.

"A full circle," Beckett lowered his weapon, lightly pressing the sword's tip to Elizabeth's heart.

Jack quickly assessed the plank that connected the decks of both ships, jumped over the rail and ran across the plank, stopping only when Beckett added more pressure to the sword that he was holding and told him to stop.

"You're losing," said Jack, glancing over his shoulder, his crew slowly gaining an upper hand in the battle, even despite being more than slightly outnumbered by the East India Trading Company men.

"Or not exactly a full circle," Beckett continued his train of thought, ignoring Jack's remark. "For now not only will you lose your ship, but also _her_," he brushed a few strands of Elizabeth's hair off her face with his sword's blade, causing Jack to almost subconsciously raise his sword. "I wouldn't do that if I were you," said Beckett, glancing coolly at Jack's sword. "Unless you want to watch her bleed to death," he said slowly, pronouncing every word with chilling clearness, and drawing his sword across Elizabeth's neck. "You really made me wonder, Jack," said Beckett, and out of the corner of his eye Jack noticed that Mercer was back, his shadow emerging from below. "What do you find so appealing about her? Not her father's fortune or standing, I believe, for they are both gone," Beckett tapped his sword against Elizabeth's cheek, and Jack's grip on his sword tightened, and it took all his will power not to leap forward and ran the man through at an instant. But he could not risk him being a split second faster with his blade... "Her comeliness?"

"What do you want? Do you want me to stab the heart? Consider it done. Just let her go," said Jack, scolding himself inwardly for saying all of that a bit too quickly, but the words had just come by themselves, anxiety winning over more cautious approach to the negotiations. _Now _let her go; he should have said 'now let her go', not 'just let her go'. 'Just let her go' must have sounded too pleading. As if he was scared, as if he was terrified that something might happen to her; as if...

Beckett's mouth twitched in dark amusement. "Jack Sparrow, the Captain of the _Flying Dutchman_," he said slowly, marking each word with a tap on one of Elizabeth's shoulders, and Jack noticed a grimace flitting across Elizabeth's face; she was apparently regaining consciousness. "No, that's not what I have in mind," said Beckett. "Truth to be told, you're quite useless to me at the moment," he added, glancing at Mercer who stepped out from the shadows. "Unlike your wife," Beckett squinted. "She might prove useful, and even if she would not... I can always hang her for piracy," he smiled at a ghost of a confused expression on Jack's face. "Oh, didn't you guess? The good Governor will become an obedient Captain of the _Flying Dutchman_ and his daughter... my wife."

Jack's eyes flickered to Elizabeth who at that very moment opened her eyes and met his gaze. "I'm terribly _not_ sorry to inform ye that this is not only not probable, but not possible," said Jack with a brief smile, leaping forward.

Beckett lowered his blade immediately, but instead of Elizabeth's flesh, it only stabbed the deck, for she had managed to quickly roll away as soon as Jack had moved toward her.

"Do consider that your father is locked in one of the cabins below," said Beckett coolly, while Jack swiftly helped Elizabeth to her feet.

She wrinkled her forehead, trying to remember what had happened, the last that she remembered being a conversation she had had with her father, and then somebody had knocked her unconscious, and only now she had regained her senses, still feeling slightly dizzy.

Jack glanced over at the _Black Pearl_ recognizing familiar cheering that could only mean that his crew was in control of the entire situation, or at least very close to it. They should go back to the _Pearl _and set sail. With the wind as it was now and with the approaching storm, they could be able to make good time and perhaps even get ahead of the _Endeavor_ well enough to arrive in Port Royal a few hours before them. But leaving the Governor to Beckett was not an option, especially in the light of his recently revealed plans concerning him.

"Lizzie," Jack leaned toward Elizabeth, his eyes fixed on Beckett. "Go back to the _Pearl_. I'll take care of this." Elizabeth seemed hesitant, but decided not to argue, even though she was still reluctant to leave. Jack widened his eyes at her, and she bit her lip, turned around, and ran to the gangplank and onto it, not noticing that it was already trembling...

She screamed, and Jack swirled around starting at the sight of the gangplank sliding down in between the two ships, the crew of the _Pearl_ - unaware of his and Elizabeth's absence on board – apparently having decided to sail away as soon as possible.

"'Lizbeth!..." In a split second he threw himself toward the rail, catching Elizabeth's hands at the last moment, and trying to pull her up.

She held onto him, and soon, with great effort, he managed to drag her back onto the deck. She smiled at him weakly, breathing heavily.

"Catch the rope!" A voice urged them to look toward their ship, where James was tossing two ropes into their direction.

"What do we do?" asked Elizabeth nervously, glancing over her shoulder, somewhat disturbed by Beckett's calmness, his eyes studying them coolly with blank interest, as if he already knew what was going to happen.

"Go back to our ship," said Jack, catching the ropes, and giving one of them to Elizabeth. "Head for Port Royal as fast as you can."

"I can't leave you here," she whispered hotly, clenching her teeth.

"Lizzie. Go," he said in the firmest voice he could muster. "We'll meet in Port Royal."

"That's right," interjected Beckett. "We all will meet in Port Royal," he said, looking between Jack and Elizabeth.

"Behind you!" screamed James from the deck of the _Black Pearl_ and Jack turned around abruptly, but as soon as he did so, two soldiers caught him by the arms, and following the earlier orders threw him, to Elizabeth's dismay, into the dark sea.

"Jack!" she called, her voice breaking as she leaped toward the rail, beginning to climb, her first impulse being to jump after him, but she was held back by the guards.

"They will fish him out, don't worry," said Beckett levelly.

The soldiers turned Elizabeth around. "Where is my father?"she asked through her gritted teeth, glaring at him, and trying to seem more unafraid that she really was, which was not all that hard with her anger prevailing over her fear more and more. "Where is my father?" repeated Elizabeth in an icy tone, wondering if perhaps Beckett had been bluffing and her father was still on the _Black Pearl_, the thought that she found very comforting on one hand, but also terrifying on the other. If her father was not here... she was here all alone.

It struck her as a bit odd that the idea worried her so much. She had always been so independent, so self-reliant, she had not cared for spending many hours in solitude, reading and dreaming. She had enjoyed the company of her own thoughts. And even recently... when she had been kidnapped by Barbossa those couple of years ago, she was afraid and yet she had felt like she could have faced any danger that was there to face, she had not wished for assistance, she had not felt alone – she had only felt that there was a challenge ahead of her, and the only fear that she had felt was the fear of unknown mixed with the thrill of adventure. However now... something changed. Suddenly she felt very much alone. Why could that be?

The wind tugged on her hair and she took a sharp intake of breath realizing how much she would have loved to feel Jack's arms around her... how much she had gotten used to his arms around her... That was what she missed, that was what hurt so much – his absence. Even if it lasted mere minutes. It still hurt and she knew that it would only hurt more.

"He is here," said Beckett, taking away Elizabeth's hope that the Governor was safe on the_ Pearl_, and at the same time making her feel a bit better. Beckett's eyes moved from her to the guards. "Take her below."

* * *

"Turn her around!!!" Jack shoved Gibbs away from the helm, water dripping from his clothes, as he had almost flown across the deck of the _Pearl_ as soon as James, Pintel and Ragetti hoisted him out of the water.

"What are you doing?" asked James, knitting his eyebrows, and standing next to Jack, fighting the urge to push the man away from the helm. "We should be heading for Port Royal. We still have a chance to be there before them-"

"Elizabeth is on the _Endeavor_," Jack cut him off in a firm voice, and James blinked and for a moment just stared at him, unpleasantly surprised by the news. "And the Governor too," added Jack.

"Beckett is sailing to Port Royal too," observed James in a low voice.

Jack's eyes shot to his. "So we should just leave them there?" he asked with a more than a hint of annoyance in his voice.

"He is right. We should get to Port Royal as fast as we can," cut in Ameerah, running up the small staircase, and joining the group. "We should get there before them. Get the heart-"

"I thank ye all for yer orders," interrupted her Jack. "But we'll follow mine."

"Without the heart, we will have nothing," said Ameerah stubbornly, narrowing her eyes at him.

"And with the heart?" asked Jack irritatedly. "Unless ye have the next _Dutchman_'s captain hidden somewhere under yer attire," he snapped, looking away.

James straightened up, the manner of the conversation not meeting at all his views on how such conversations should look like.

"Well," Ameerah snorted humorlessly. "As a matter of fact I do," she said, crossing her arms over her chest.

Jack and James looked at her questioningly.

She smiled briefly. "You wanted to know why I'm here," she said, looking between them. "I'm here," she inhaled deeply, "because I want to stab the heart." Jack blinked. "I want to become the Captain of the _Flying Dutchman_."


	59. Chapter 59

A/N: _**Thank you so much for all the wonderful reviews! **_**:)**

...& I just wanted to let you know that this story will have 64 chapters! :)

Disclaimer: Jack, Elizabeth, etc. belong to Disney. And there are also two short quotes in this chapter, one from Hamlet (act III, scene 1), and the other one from Romeo & Juliet (act V, scene 3).

**Chapter 59**

He found himself thinking about what he had read while he was standing in the middle of a large room, lights too bright to see anything, people's voices too shrill and loud to understand what they were saying.

He put his silver pistol away and turned around.

All those strange people in those imaginary worlds... it was not what he had expected... There were no solutions – only... stories, and the necessity to draw his own conclusions. How could he know what was right? Right was never obvious... Or was he reading it all wrong? And why so many of those characters were always dying in the end?... as if they could not be rescued?... and yet so little was needed, so many times as he was reading he found himself wishing for a different outcome and that outcome could have been so easily achieved... But for some reason there was only an obstacle thrown in the way, a vicious word, an unfortunate accident... and then everything was going horribly wrong...

And yet it did not have to. It did not have to at all.

Instead of going back, he wandered around the streets of the city that looked so bleak and dark that he did not even wish to know its name. Did it even matter where he was? _When _he was? He was so tired of those travels... all of a sudden it started looking so ridiculous... what he had done... what he was doing...

He thought about himself and it became hard for him to see himself in his memories.

He could hardly remember himself anymore, and yet he wished that what he was now, was not all that there was to him.

He should not have done so many things. He would not have done them if he could have made those decisions once again. Maybe then... maybe then _she_ would not be scared of him... she would not despise him... if that was what she felt...

Maybe she was even right?

He turned into a narrow street and walked away from the main part of the city, and then... he stopped abruptly in his tracks, his boots a few inches deep in snow; white, delicate flakes falling from the grey sky, quickly covering his vanishing footsteps.

By the frozen river, on the cold ground sat a man. Long, dark hair, a hat slid over his eyes, his forehead resting on one of his arms. Suddenly the man rose to his feet and headed for the river, screeching of ice shaking the accidental witness out of his reverie.

He ran, without thinking, guessing everything and nothing all at once, dismayed that he might have been guessing correctly.

He pulled the man backwards, throwing him on the ground before the icy surface collapsed under his feet.

"What d' ye bloody think ye-" the man wrinkled his forehead, tilted his head to the side, a blurred shadow of remembrance flickering in his eyes. "Have I seen ye? Before..." he asked, looking away, and rubbing his temple, a dull scent of alcohol lingering in the cold air.

The Chronos' herald (how heavy this title suddenly became...) glanced around, as if trying to see where and when he was, but then he apparently dismissed the inquiry as not important. The man was still looking at him with the inebriation-numbed curiosity.

"Drowning in the freezing cold water is a horrible kind of death," said the stranger, his eyes shifting toward the river.

Captain Jack Sparrow adjusted his hat, trying to remember when he had seen the man... Tortuga, maybe? His head throbbed, and he grimaced. It was more than a tad bit disappointing that there actually was the amount of rum that could be considered _too much_ for him.

Yes.... maybe Tortuga... One could meet all kinds of people in Tortuga... But he had not been there in such a long time... It still hurt him to be there... It's been four years since-

"Maybe I don't care whether I die a terrible death or not," said Jack with grim nonchalance, pulling a bottle of rum from under his coat.

The stranger looked at him for a moment in silence, the swishing of the wind reverberating in his head.

It would be so easy to kill him... to take his life away... By killing him he would have destroyed himself, because it was not Jack Sparrow's moment to die, but still... He would have never had _her_. Neither of them would.

"Ye look bloody pale," said Jack, raising his hand up in the air, and waving the rum bottle in the man's direction, narrowing his eyes at him. He had seen him before, he had. Or perhaps he had not... He was beginning to doubt all of his thoughts, as of late. All his thoughts were questionable since that one memorable day when he had met her... His life was going awry from that day on. The mutiny... and then Lizzie Sparrow had disappeared... only to show up two years later, and... disappear again. And yet he had foolishly waited for her to return. Still. And it had been four years since her second disappearance. He would have really considered her a ghost, if it was not for Bill Turner who also remembered her... Life was being so chaotic, lately. He had travelled around the world, pretending to chase adventures, while in the reality he was searching for two things, having no luck finding either of them: there was no trace of the _Pearl_ and Barbossa... no trace of Lizzie Sparrow... And on the top of it all, rum could actually get him drunk... Life was really a horrible and painful experience... "Life is a really horrible and painful experience," muttered Jack when the stranger had reluctantly taken the bottle from him, looked at it quizzically for a moment, and then took a cautious sip.

"Death is no better," replied the man in the grey coat, regarding the frozen bank of the river for a moment, before sitting down on the ground next to Jack.

"_Perchance to dream_, eh?" Jack smiled briefly, taking his rum back and taking a generous swig. "_O happy dagger_," he muttered somberly, wrinkling his nose.

The man's eyes darted to him. "What do you think of it?" he asked with a hint of fresh interest in his voice that suddenly stopped sounding so blank, something that Jack had mistakingly attributed to his own muffled state of mind.

"Of what?" Jack looked at the stranger confusedly, tilting his head backwards.

"Why do they always die in those stories? There is love and yet... they always die," the man stared at the ground with a thoughtful expression on his face.

Jack blinked. It seemed it was his luck to be always coming across crazy people. "Vulnerant omnes, ultima necat," he said with a hint of sarcasm in his voice, raising the bottle in a small toast and then taking a swig. The stranger gave him a questioning look. "Everybody dies. All hurt, the last kills."

"Hours?" guessed the man, vaguely remembering reading that sentence somewhere, and taking the rum bottle from Jack.

"No," Jack shook his head with a snort, taking the bottle from the man as soon as he had taken a sip. "Women!"

* * *

"Elizabeth!" Governor Swann pulled Elizabeth into his arms as soon as she entered, or rather was pushed into one of the _Endeavour_'s cabins.

"Father," she embraced him as the door was slammed shut and locked behind her. "Are you alright?"

The Governor shook his head with a humorless snort. "Are _you _alright?"

"I am," answered Elizabeth quietly with a half-heartedly reassuring smile. "They've thrown Jack overboard," she added, looking away. "But James saw it from the _Pearl_, I'm sure they will get him out..." she said, biting her lip, and looking at her father again with a forced, reassuring smile aimed at appearing convincing both to her father and to herself.

The Governor put a hand on her shoulder, and gave her a faint, warm smile. "Everything will be alright, Elizabeth. We're heading for Port Royal. I can't imagine there won't be anybody who could help us."

Elizabeth shook her head. "Port Royal is controlled by the East India Trading Company." The Governor wanted to say something, but Elizabeth continued. "There was nobody to help you when you were there, forced to work for Beckett," she added quietly, and the Governor looked at her for a moment in silence before nodding slowly.

"Still, The _Black Pearl_ will follow us, will she not?" asked the Governor, trying to find something to cheer his daughter up, if only slightly.

"Yes," said Elizabeth in hollow voice, giving him a small smile that quickly turned into a grimace, tears welling up in her eyes almost immediately. "But if we... if Beckett will arrive in Port Royal first, he will be waiting for the _Pearl_ to come, he will prepare a trap... if he already did not," she added grimly, turning around, and wrapping her arms around herself, looking at the black sea out of the small window. "We have to do something."

"I thought that overcoming the traps is what your husband does for a living," blurted out the Governor, and then added quickly: "I'm sorry," when Elizabeth swirled around, looking at him with wide eyes.

"No, no," she chuckled stepping closer to her father and taking his hands in hers. "This is quite accurate, actually. And I did hear a trace of friendliness in that remark," she added matter-of-factly, and then smiled.

"Grumpiness is what you mean, my dear," corrected the Governor, glad that he had managed to keep her from crying, at least for a bit longer. There was that strange feeling of desolateness about her at the moment, and it astounded and frightened him. It was as if she was only half here... and while he understood that she might feel that way, he could not understand how it was possible that he could actually see it and feel it too. She had looked so... complete when he had seen her and Jack Sparrow together... And now he saw it even more vividly - now that they had been separated... And he remembered that he had also noticed that same air of incompleteness around Jack when Elizabeth had been in the Maelstrom of Time...

Elizabeth bit her lip to keep from chuckling again. "I'm so glad," she said, throwing her arms around the Governor.

"That you have a grumpy father?" asked the Governor, pretending to sound sincerely curious.

"No," Elizabeth drew back and smiled again. "That you like Jack," she said in a low voice, her smile turning from bright to timid.

"The man is hard to dislike once you get to know him," said the Governor brusquely, causing Elizabeth's eyes to widen in happy astonishment, but then almost immediately her father looked heavenwards and shook his head, "I can't believe what I'm saying anymore," he said with a snort, running his hand across his forehead.

"Oh father," Elizabeth smiled. "I-"

But the sound of the door being unlocked interrupted her, and when it opened and Cutler Beckett slowly walked inside, Elizabeth's smile was gone at an instant, replaced by a cold frown that made the Governor both proud and afraid. There were always two sides to the coin of bravery.

* * *

"Women?" The man in the grey coat seemed puzzled, but puzzled in that calm way that began to unnerve Jack. And it also did not escape his attention that the man did not seem to be cold at all, as if the winter air was not affecting him in the slightest.

"Aye," mumbled Jack, looking away. "Let's talk 'bout something else. What's yer name?" he asked, trying to make his voice sound cheerful, but not really succeeding.

The stranger, however, seemed unwilling to change the subject. "Unrequited love?" he asked in a low voice, and for the first time Jack noticed that there was something strange about the man's eyes... The man's eyes were absolutely colorless. Not transparent or expressionless... Just... colorless. There was just no other word to describe them.

"Mate," Jack put his bottle of rum next to him, inched his face closer to the stranger, raised his hand, and narrowed his eyes. "I'm Captain Jack Sparrow. And if _a_ Captain Ja-," he stopped and twitched his nose, "If _the _Captain Jack-," he paused and grimaced." If _me _doesn't want to talk 'bout something, ye can't ask questions 'bout that something that _me _doesn't want to talk 'bout, 'cause if ye do, ye may lose yer teeth," finished Jack, pointing to the man's face rather closely, and causing the man to abruptly tilt his head backwards. "Do ye want to lose yer teeth?" asked Jack with seriousness that puzzled the man a bit, even though he quickly overcame his puzzlement.

"I could always put in some gold ones," he answered wryly.

Jack looked at him for a moment blinking, and then drew back, his mouth stretching into a small smirk. "Ye have a potential for becoming a tolerable drinking companion, I give ye that," said Jack, grabbing his rum bottle again, and giving it to the man.

"I don't think so," observed the man in a low voice, taking a swig.

"So what did ye want to know?" asked Jack after a moment of looking at the man intently, and _almost _recalling where he had seen him before. "Why people die? I'm afraid I-"

"Do you miss her?"

The man's question put a frown on Jack's face, but he did not say anything, and just continued looking at the stranger with increased annoyance.

"You look as if you were missing somebody," added the man smartly, looking away.

"Do I?" asked Jack, a trace of suspicion not entirely gone from his voice.

"You do. And so do I, don't I?" he inquired almost eagerly, looking at Jack again, and surprising him a bit with a ridiculous hint of hopefulness in his voice.

"Ye look... pale," said Jack carefully. "Told ye that already," he reached for his rum, and the man handed him the bottle.

"How do you win a woman's heart?" The man asked another baffling question, causing Jack to make a mental note that he should never drink alone again. Drinking aloud led to meeting strange people... or _imagining _meeting strange people, at least.

"Ye die," answered Jack dismissively, wondering whether the man was perhaps his guardian angel?... No, he did not seem to have wings. His conscious?... No, his conscious would have been more articulate. His alter ego?... No, his alter ego would have had a hat. An alter hat, but a hat nonetheless. And his own rum.

The man took the rum bottle from Jack's hands. "My question was serious," said the man somberly.

"And ye think that my answer wasn't?" Jack widened his eyes at him. The man raised an eyebrow. "Death is good for everything."

The stranger snorted. "So why are you still alive?" he asked after a pause, his eyes piercing into Jack with sudden intensity.

Jack looked at him, rum humming in his head, cold air getting colder and colder around him... He looked away, and for a moment just sat motionlessly staring at the ice-covered river. "I'm waiting for somebody," he said at last in a surprisingly sober voice.

The man watched him in silence for a while before asking in a voice so hollow that it was barely audible. "Why?"

Jack smiled faintly, shaking his head, and running his hand across his forehead, his smile both sad and strangely bright, brightened by the memories that for a moment seemed to illuminate the grey landscape around him, and the stranger shuddered at the sudden realization that what he had tried to understand was always there for him to see.

It was light. That feeling. That feeling that he felt. Light. When he was thinking about her. And when she...

was thinking about this man that was sitting right now next to him.

"I'm waiting because she might come," said Jack, looking back at the man whose colorless eyes studied him with surprising thoughtfulness. "She just likes to disappear from time to time," he added almost inaudibly. "Maybe one day I'll disappear too," he added, letting his eyelids fall over his eyes, the images of the past, of the girl in a light blue dress flowing back to him. _I don't even have a picture of her_," he thought numbly.

"Not too soon," snapped the man almost automatically, shaking Jack off his reverie.

"Oh really? Perhaps ye can tell the day when somebody dies?" asked Jack, suddenly irritated that he could not just sit here alone and drin- and think. It had not been at all easy to get rid of Bill Turner and Joshamee Gibbs, and convince them both that he was going to be absolutely fine spending a few days alone in England.

"I do," answered the man to Jack's stupefaction, although he himself seemed a bit startled by his own answer. Why he had not thought of that before?

He looked at Jack with such intensity, that any thoughts about deeming the man's statement as ridiculous evaporated from Jack's mind.

Suddenly, the man leaped to his feet, eyebrows knitted and his colorless eyes narrowed in thought. _Only two more days_, he thought with dull disbelief, not knowing why the discovery frightened him so. Was it not what he had wanted? For this man to be dead. And yet... all he could think of, was her... all he could think of was the expression on Elizabeth's...

_Elizabeth... Elizabeth... Elizabeth..._

...Elizabeth's face when he had forced her to fire the silver pistol at Jack Sparrow... when Jack Sparrow had committed that strange suicide and had somehow managed to get to her in the Maelstrom of Time and take her back...

The full realization of what he had done suddenly presented itself to him... He had killed himself for her... he had made a lethal deal to rescue her...

And this Jack Sparrow here, the Jack Sparrow that barely knew her... he was still thinking about her, year after year... he was still... waiting for her, he still...

loved her.

He loved her.

Did he love her more than _he _did?...

"Are ye alright?"

Jack's voice drifted to him, shaking him off his reverie, his eyes focusing on Jack again.

Jack Sparrow. The man whose time to die was to come in two days from the moment he had last seen Elizabeth and him in the future.

"I have to go," Death said absently, looking around with unseeing eyes.

"Ye forgot to tell me when I am going to die," observed Jack with a hint of humor in his voice, beginning to doubt if the man was a figment of his imagination. A figment of his imagination would have stayed longer.

The herald looked at him, for the first time since he could remember a strange sense of doing something _right_ dominating his thoughts, the feeling surprising him; the feeling that he was getting close to capturing what he was trying so hard to understand... and embrace.

"Five years from now," he said in a low voice, raising his eyes to meet Jack's gaze.

"I'll die in five years?" asked Jack dubiously, the amount of rum that he had consumed preventing him from being properly dismayed.

But perhaps there was no reason to be dismayed, for the man shook his head. "No. In five years..." he hesitated. When had it become so easy? And why it was much easier than taking people's lives away? Or perhaps... it was not easier... He never felt anything firing the silver pistol... while right now... he actually felt something. He felt... "Five years from today you should... you should visit a town called Port Royal."

He felt... calm.

"Port Royal?" Jack raised his eyebrows and blinked. He had heard it before... He had heard about Port Royal-

He felt cold shivers run up his spine at the memory... Lizzie. Lizzie had told him something about coming to Port Royal... or not coming to Port Royal... He could not remember...

"Yes. Port Royal. You may come across... your ship there," said the man after a pause, and Jack blinked, looking almost completely sober in an instant.

He glanced around, eyebrows furrowed. He put away the rum, propped himself upwards with his hand, and slowly rose to his feet. "And why-" he started, but trailed off in confusion.

There was nobody there. The man was gone.

Jack spent a while just looking around suspiciously, but nothing else happened. He rubbed his forehead thinking that he had probably imagined it... or most of it, at least...

"Bloody disappearing people," he mumbled, pouting slightly.

Still... it would not hurt to go to that Port Royal... in five years. Even if that conversation was only a figment of his imagination, who knew? it might have actually been prophetic...

He adjusted his hat, trying to shake off the unpleasant, nagging feeling that he had seen that man before...

Five years. Well, an imaginary clue was better than nothing. He would go to that Port Royal in five years and see for himself. And until then...

He emptied the rum bottle and sighed.

Until then, he would just keep dreaming.

* * *

"Why not?!" Ameerah placed her hands on her hips, glaring at Jack.

"Good question," observed James in a low voice, receiving an undeserved, in his opinion, glare from Captain Fiero.

"I didn't say "no". I said that I'd think 'bout it," said Jack stiffly, looking at the blurred shadow of the _Endeavor_ before them, and having an impression that the _Pearl_ was falling behind, somehow. And with the wind being on their side it would have been rather strange.

Ameerah shook her head with an indignant snort. "Think 'bout it?! Jack! Do ye think I'm askin' ye for permission?!" she shouted in an agitated tone of voice.

James raised his eyebrows wondering whether his presence during this conversation was really required. Perhaps he should just go and see for the cannons to be at the ready.

"An' how would I explain you stabbing the heart to... Calypso?" asked Jack irritatedly, half of him focused on thinking about Elizabeth, and another half on the state of the _Pearl_ and their course. Ameerah glanced heavenward with an ostentatious sigh."I need to think 'bout it, that's all."

"I'll take care of that... Calypso," said Ameerah matter-of-factly, and James had an odd impression that a small smile flickered across her face when she said that.

Jack smiled wryly. "Bravery is a blurry thing. As Teague would say," he muttered under his breath.

Ameerah shook her head. "Ye're really over the edge if ye're quoting yer father," she said with another sigh.

"Something is wrong, we're falling behind," said Jack in a low voice, knitting his eyebrows together.

"No doubt they made sure we wouldn't arrive in Port Royal before them," observed Ameerah with a humorless smile, glancing at James.

Jack also glanced at James, who squinted. "I will see if something can be observed," he said evenly, quite grateful for the opportunity to walk away. He wanted to think, and thinking with people arguing in the background was unlikely to be successful.

"Why do ye want to stab the heart?" asked Jack, looking between the sea and Ameerah.

"I want to live forever," answered Ameerah, placing one of her hands on the wheel, and tapping her fingers over one of the spokes.

"Dull answer," retorted Jack sourly.

Ameerah smirked. "Dull question."

"Don't tell. All the better. As long as the stabbing isn't accompanied by backstabbing," he paused and shifted his eyes from the horizon to her, "of some sort."

Ameerah theatrically widened her eyes at him. "That hurt, Jack. Who do ye think I am?"

"A pirate and a woman," answered Jack plainly.

"Ye could have put it the other way around," complained Ameerah in an exaggeratedly hurt tone of voice, moving her hand to rest on top of Jack's, but he swiftly withdrew his hand from under hers. "She's not here," said Ameerah narrowing her eyes at him, but trying to keep annoyance out of her voice.

Jack smiled briefly, a passing shadow of deep worry flitting across his face and annoying her quite thoroughly. "She's everywhere," said Jack in a hollow voice, and Ameerah was not sure if his voice sounded hollow because of the wind, or because of the emotions that his own words evoked in him. "I look straight ahead and see her. I look around and see her. I look at you and-

"This ain't nice, Jack," she interrupted him tersely.

"Just wanted to make it clear," replied Jack, giving her a thoughtful, serious look.

Ameerah smiled sarcastically. "Make what clear? That you enjoy shagging her more than other strumpets? At the moment?" she added dryly.

Jack's hands tightened around the spokes. He took an intake of breath and said in a patient, but also audibly irritated tone of voice, his eyes fixed on the _Endeavour_'s silhouette. "At the moment I am in a very bad mood and when I am in a bad mood, I shoot people, so do take a walk toward the rail and over it if you don't want to be considered a perfect target."

"I take that the _and over it_ part was a joke," snapped Ameerah in a cold voice abruptly turning around, and storming off.

Jack did not even glance in her direction, and only exhaled when she was gone, trying to decide what they were to do if they would fall behind the _Endeavour_ after all, and therefore were doomed to arrive in Port Royal after Beckett.

* * *

"You're not very talkative, Elizabeth," observed Beckett in a low, even voice, stopping in front of Elizabeth, who stood in the middle of the room, held in place by two soldiers. Two other soldiers were preoccupied with putting the shackles around Governor Swann's wrists.

"Mrs. Captain Sparrow," Elizabeth corrected Beckett tirelessly, staring stubbornly into the empty air and avoiding looking at him.

"Lady Beckett, soon to be," Beckett corrected her in turn, receiving only an irritating snort in response.

"You're deluded," observed Elizabeth in a bored voice. "And ridiculous," she added angrily, shifting her eyes to him. Actually it was not only ridiculous, but utterly irritating, and as usual she found herself at the point where her fear was being suppressed by her rage, a personality trait that she could not quite decide if it was more often helpful or unhelpful.

"We would have to do something about that rude manner of speaking," said Beckett levelly after a pause, his eyes boring into hers. "The aftereffects of the company that you have been lately keeping, no doubt."

"I think it's far more rude to stare at somebody from such a close proximity," retorted Elizabeth coolly.

A ghost of a smile flickered across Beckett's face and he raised his hand to brush a strand of hair behind her ear. Elizabeth thrashed her head causing all of her hair to fall loosely over her shoulders, but apart from that, she could not move, her arms being kept motionless by the guards standing on either side of her.

Beckett looked at her, and a hint of amusement in his gaze unnerved her. He took a slow step back. "Mr. Mercer," he called, his eyes never leaving her face.

Mercer stepped from his spot near the door and approached the fireplace.

Elizabeth looked at the man, his appearance always making her feel as if the worst was going to happen. She glanced at her father who watched Mercer with furrowed brows.

After starting up the fire, Mercer placed a chair in the middle of the room, took a strangely looking cane from Beckett, the cane that Elizabeth had not even noticed that he had been carrying. She squinted, catching a shape at the end of the cane...

Beckett raised the cane and looked at the P for a moment, and then shifted his eyes back to Elizabeth.

"Do you fear pain, Eliz-"

"You may refrain from formulating any offers," Elizabeth interrupted him sharply. "And you may burn it on my forehead if you wish. I'm not afraid of anything," she added, successfully keeping her voice from shaking through the entire utterance, even though her heart was hammering in her chest.

Beckett looked at her blankly, his stony facial expression not betraying the impression her words had made on him. "You underestimate me," he said at last in a low voice, and raised his hand, signalling something to Mercer.

Elizabeth's eyes flew to him and widened when he gestured for the guards to sit the Governor down in the chair that had been placed in the middle of the room.

"What are you doing?" she asked before she managed to stop herself, her voice audibly anxious.

Beckett's mouth twitched into a faint sneer. "Perhaps you would be interested in my offer, after all?" he said, slightly raising his eyebrows, while Mercer proceeded to rolling up one of the Governor's sleeves.

"Elizabeth, don't do anything," said the Governor in a steady voice, his back turned to her, and although he could not see her, he hoped she could feel the strength in his voice even without seeing it in his eyes.

"You have no idea how painful it is," Beckett's low, heavy voice caused Elizabeth's eyes to shift from her father back to him. "And how painful it might be," he added, taking a step toward her. "And yet it might not happen at all, it is all up to you," he said, his voice thick with complacency.

Despite fearing for her father, something in Beckett's voice, in his eyes aggravated Elizabeth so much that for a moment she did not wish for anything else but erasing that sneer from his face. "I'm sure it's not as painful as being you," she said through her gritted teeth, thrusting up her chin. Beckett's mouth twitched, his sneer gone, a flash of anger passing through his face and somehow encouraging Elizabeth to continue, "being a man who spends his whole life chasing after the man whose one word is worth more, heard better, and more eagerly listened to than all the orders and threats you have ever uttered."

Beckett looked at her levelly, irritated by that sparkling pride, arrogance, bravery, whichever one it was, he could never quite guess. But it was so similar... they were similar indeed, no wonder he had chosen her, married her; no wonder her eyes were alight every time she looked at him. _All the better_, he thought with soothing cynicism. He would pay for everything. She would pay. They both would. And if she thought that it was a battle of words that she could spin like her ill-chosen husband, she was wrong.

"Mr. Mercer!"

Elizabeth did not even have the time to blink when suddenly her father was pulled to his feet and taken to the side and she was seated in the chair, one of the guards rolling up one of the sleeves of Jack's coat that she was wearing over her bare skin.

Beckett placed the cane in the fire and kept it there for several moments, and Elizabeth could read his anger from the way his hand was clasped around the cane, eyes fixed on the flames that were making the P glow more and more with every second.

She did not know whether it was his intent from the very beginning or perhaps her words caused him to change his plans. If it was the latter she was grateful that she had managed to save her father both the pain and the humiliation of being branded a pirate. She had a moment to imagine what Jack would say... what he _will_ say-

She exhaled sharply despite her efforts to stay calm, her eyes flickering to Beckett who went to stand in front of her, and she could almost feel the heat emitted by the glowing P.

Governor Swann writhed and shouted trying to stop him, and Elizabeth wanted to tell her father not to worry, but she could not quite hear what he was saying anymore, her mind revolving around imagining how much and for how long it was going to hurt...

One of the guards held his hands on her shoulders, the other two held her hands, even though she was not struggling.

Beckett lowered the P, a thrill of revenge coursing through his veins with renewed force, and he smiled inwardly at what was yet to come later, for this was only the beginning. At last everything was going well. And although it was a shame that the scar would spoil the perfection of her skin, hurting her, hurting Jack Sparrow through hurting her was worth it.

"I hope that you will remember your first lesson well," he said in a quiet voice.

Elizabeth's eyes almost involuntarily flew to her hand, and she visibly paled, even though her gaze remained steady and focused. She swallowed and bit her lip. "You're incapable of evoking any feelings," she whispered, trying to think about something else, something beautiful, something connected with Jack... "Not even fear," she added, glancing up at Beckett with determination in her eyes.

He stared back at her blankly, and not a muscle twitched in his face when he pressed the burning letter to Elizabeth's skin.

The Governor screamed, his eyes widening in dismay.

Elizabeth had thought she would have been strong enough not to scream, but the searing, overwhelming, indescribable pain caught her off guard, and she cried out, tears springing to her eyes and rolling down her cheeks. She squeezed her eyes shut, wincing, shaking, and breathing hard, and just wishing for it to be over. The nauseating smell of burned skin, her father's screams, the pain that seemed to course through her veins filling every fiber of her body... And it just would not stop, would not ebb... even when Beckett took the cane away remarking to Mercer to clean the cane from the remnants of the skin that was still sticking to it... She still felt the pulsating, burning sensation tearing her thoughts apart. She tried to hold onto her thoughts and think about something, think about Jack... Jack... Jack... about the shadows on the moon.... stars shining down... on them... when they had run across the beach.... after their wedding..... about his hands.... warm and gentle... and his lips.... and how it will feel... to be in his arms again.... how it will feel....

and yet the pain still refused to go away.... for a very long time...


	60. Chapter 60

A/N: _**Thank you so much for all the fantastic reviews! **_**:)**

Disclaimer: I don't own PotC.

**Chapter 60**

Governor Swann spent the night with Elizabeth cradled in his arms, her hand swollen under the bandage and making his heart clench every time he looked at it. He wished he would have been able to have done something, and he felt ashamed that he could not have succeeded in protecting his daughter from Beckett's cruelty, the cruelty that surprised him even though he had expected only the worst from that man. And yet he had thought that there were acts that even a man such as Beckett would not have committed. Apparently, he had been wrong.

He had spent his whole life protecting his daughter, making sure that she had everything and anything she might need and wish for, and yet in the moment when she had probably needed him most he had failed her, he had let something as terrible as that happen to her. And it did not matter that he could not have done anything...

Cautiously, he placed his hand on Elizabeth's head as she stirred in her sleep, her forehead glowing with fever that had broken out soon after branding. He had feared that she would have fainted, but she had not. She had been strong... or perhaps more brave than strong, but either way she had managed to retain her consciousness until her hand was wrapped in a cloth by one of the soldiers and until after they had been taken to the brig and left in one of the cells. After that, she had slowly slid to the floor telling him that she had needed just a bit of rest...

He had sat on the ground, and pulled her into his arms, letting her head rest on his shoulder. He was glad that at least she had not fainted, but had rather fallen asleep, even if her sleep was often interrupted and feverish.

Gently stroking her hair with his hand, he hoped that after a few hours of sleep she would feel better. He could not remember her in such a state: her face aglow with fever, lips trembling, her body shaking from time to time when a grimace appeared on her face and he wondered whether it was an effect of a bad dream she was having, or the aftermath of the pain she had experienced... or both.

He looked at the bandage again wondering if she still felt the pain... He was doomed to guessing just how horrible that pain must have been, how horrible it must have felt to have a piece of blazing, hot metal pressed to his skin. He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth. He had always been scornful toward the idea of revenge... but somehow now he hoped he would see Beckett pay for what he had done. And if there was any justice in the world, there was no way he would not pay for all of his vicious, cruel deeds.

The Governor rested his head against the damp wall of the brig. Just to think he had once wanted to see Jack Sparrow hang for the mere reason that the man was branded!... And now Elizabeth bore the same brand... The world was such a dark, strange place...

"Jack..." Elizabeth shifted in her sleep burying her face in her father's shoulder.

The Governor brushed his thumb across her fevered forehead, wordlessly hushing her. It sounded almost like a prayer, her husband's name on her lips, the only word she was repeatedly uttering in her sleep. He did not really know what to answer her... Whether he should say that her husband would be here soon, or... should her rather stay silent? After all, she was asleep and could not hear him.

"Jack..."

Governor Swann's eyebrows knitted, and he leaned down pressing a kiss to his daughter's forehead. "You'll see him tomorrow, I'm sure. Sleep now," he said quietly, and Elizabeth sighed softly. He looked at her and smiled faintly noticing that her breathing steadied a bit and that her lips ceased to tremble.

* * *

"The ship is damaged in several places from the middle toward the stern," said James in response to Will's inquiry, as he proceeded back toward the helm.

The night was dark and the clouds were hanging ominously over the ship. The _Black Pearl_ was losing speed and falling behind the _Endeavour_ despite the crew's best efforts and Jack's determination and infuriation with which he tried to cover desperate worry that made Gibbs, for the first time ever, feel uncertain as to the outcome of their predicament.

"Beckett needs them. He won't do anything to them," said Will in a firm voice, but with uncertainty in his eyes.

James glanced at him and replied only after a short pause. "He won't kill them. Not yet. That is all we can be sure of."

Will looked away meeting his father's concerned gaze. "We'll soon have a storm to deal with. Let us best start preparing for this now," said Bill Turner, placing his hand on Will's shoulder. "There's nothing more we can do."

Will nodded resignedly, and James left father and son and headed toward the helm, walking past Ameerah who, with a very angry expression on her face, was helping the crew with the sails.

"You didn't decline her offer, did you?" asked James when he reached the wheel, glancing at Jack, and then looking at Ameerah.

"Which offer?" snapped Jack, and James shifted his eyes to him, eyebrows raised. "No," continued Jack, trying to make his voice sound calmer. "I said I needed to think about it."

"There's nothing to think about," stated James decidedly. "That's the only choice we have," he added in a low voice.

"Hardly a choice, if it's the only one, eh?" Jack smiled humorlessly, inhaled and exhaled slowly. "It seems to be the only solution regardless its consequences, so I guess we'd pursue this plan and let Captain Fiero get the _Dutchman_," said Jack in an unenthusiastic tone of voice.

"You don't trust her," said James with a brief smile, squinting.

"I only trust my ship and my wife," answered Jack almost automatically, his eyes widening slightly at his own statement, and he opened his mouth to amend, but James raised his hand to stop him.

"I won't tell her that you said that," he said seriously, but Jack looked at him suspiciously, a bit irritated by a ghost of a smirk that flickered across James' face.

Jack looked away grimly, and James made to leave, but not before adding over his shoulder. "I meant... I won't tell the _Pearl_." And then he started descending the stairs before Jack's narrowed eyes returned to him.

With a sigh, Jack ran his hand across his face. How could he lose her from sight again? He had promised himself that it would have never happened again. And here they were – apart, a recurring nightmare that just would not go away.

A storm broke out soon after, capturing the _Black Pearl _in torrents of rain and schools of shadows, putting an end to all hope that they might catch up with _Endeavor_ and arrive in Port Royal before Beckett...

* * *

"He was born at sea, you know..."

Governor Swann's eyes flew open at the sound of Elizabeth's quiet, raspy voice, and he quickly shook himself out of the half-sleep in which he had fallen. He looked worriedly at Elizabeth, and gently place his hand on her forehead, acknowledging with a frown that she still had a fever, although she seemed to be fully awake now, her eyes fluttering open, one of her hands tugging absently on his shirt.

"He told me," she whispered, closing her eyes, and drawing a shaky breath. "But I don't know much more than that... just a few things... we didn't have time to speak of the past... speak of everything..."

The Governor regarded her face with wary eyes, but she did not seem to speak out of fever, which would not have been a good sign. It was more as if she was trying to concentrate on something else than... pain? worry? He hoped it was the latter... having only those two to choose from. He was afraid to ask her if she was still hurting, not wishing to bring up something that she was perhaps just trying to forget.

"I heard..." started the Governor, but trailed off, realizing that what he was about to say was also connected to what he did not want to mention.

But Elizabeth opened her eyes and glanced up at him wordlessly urging him to continue, so he did continue. He told her what he had heard from Gibbs about Jack freeing the slaves, but he was careful to avoid mentioning Beckett or East India Trading Company directly.

"Yes," whispered Elizabeth with a faint smile, and the Governor noticed that she lightly moved her right hand, but then stilled for a second, and raised her left hand instead, using it to slowly push some loose strands of hair off her cheek. "But he doesn't like to talk about it himself," she added in a soft voice, every word calming her down a bit more and the Governor looked in wonder how talking about Jack was slowly breaking the fever, because when he placed his hand on her forehead again, it was slightly cooler than few moments earlier. "He doesn't like talking about the good things he has done," continued Elizabeth quietly. "You should've seen him," she smiled, closing her eyes. "He is so adorable when he is upset about it... about... when somebody says good things about him... or says that he is good... so adorable..." Elizabeth licked her dried lips with a sigh.

"I'm sure... if you say so yourself..." replied the Governor evasively. The deep affection in Elizabeth's voice was making him feel slightly embarrassed, although he also felt that he should be grateful that she trusted him with her thoughts, that she was telling him what she felt. He was quite sure it was not a common thing in the world, at least it was not something he had seen often... He himself would not have talked about such matters to his parents... So perhaps, despite all the mistakes he had doubtlessly made, he also succeeded at least in one field... perhaps... perhaps he managed to be a good parent... and there was hardly an achievement that could equal this one.

"And I can never stay angry with him when he pouts... it's so adorable... Have you seen him pout?" Elizabeth's quiet question broke into his reverie.

The Governor blinked. "I'm sure it is... adorable," he managed to say matter-of-factly. He was never good at conversations concerning matters that had nothing to do with his work. He never knew what to say, something that had always been making Elizabeth's mother laugh... He closed his eyes struck by the memory, and not for the first time by the realization just how much Elizabeth resembled her, in looks, in voice, in gestures...

She was silent for a moment, and they both seemed to listen to the sound of the waves crashing against the ship.

"I'm sorry that you couldn't be at my wedding," said Elizabeth quietly, opening her eyes.

The Governor smiled faintly. "I was. And at the two of them. Two of them that went awry. But I seem to have missed the one that went right, yes."

Elizabeth looked up at him with a smile in her eyes, and he smiled back at her. "I wish you could be there," she said after a pause. "It was beautiful. There was just no time... I'll explain it all to you... but maybe not today..." she trailed off with a sigh, and the Governor noticed a small grimace flickering across her face. He wanted to tell her to just close her eyes and rest, but Elizabeth continued, and the new brightness in her voice kept him from silencing her. "We went to the beach afterwards, there were stars... everywhere... it was so beautiful... the sea and the night... and we were dancing around and laughing... and it really... and I really..." Elizabeth leaned her head on the Governor's shoulder, and closed her eyes. "I really didn't think I could ever feel so happy," she added in an almost inaudible voice and the Governor wrinkled his forehead and also closed his eyes for a moment, hoping that perhaps it was all a bad dream from which they would wake up soon... He did not wish for her to remember a few happy moments; he wanted her to be happy, to always be happy. "...and then Jack swept me into his arms and carried me across the beach. He said it was called a _honeywalk_," Elizabeth chuckled under her breath and the Governor smiled faintly, slowly opening his eyes, and noticing that the fingers of Elizabeth's right hand were outstretched and that she was trying to keep her hand as still as possible. "If I had a daughter I'd give her mum's name," she said all of a sudden, and the Governor darted his eyes to her, but her eyes were already closed, and she fell into feverish slumber once again, her forehead and cheeks glowing in the shivering lantern light, the night outside dark and quiet, except for the murmurs of the sea.

Governor Swann rested his head against the brig's wall and sighed, looking at Elizabeth with sad thoughtfulness. He felt like all those years ago when after his wife had passed away they used to spend many hours together like this... Elizabeth on his lap, her cheek on his shoulder... and they had talked about Elizabeth's mother... Strange kind of mourning, as somebody had told him once when he had mentioned it. He had not thought it strange. Forgetting was strange, and silence was death's victory. Remembering was all that they had left, and so they had talked and remembered... and never commented on the tears that were rolling down their faces throughout those conversations. They were a part of it, they belonged to those moments...

Slowly closing his eyes, he felt his eyelids burn at the memory of his wife, and he wondered what she would say now... if she was here... she would have been so happy to see Elizabeth smile, to know that she married somebody whom she really loved...

He took a deep breath and opened his eyes, quickly blinking back the tears, a broken, bright smile appearing on his face for a moment.

Maybe he could not have been at Elizabeth's wedding. But perhaps... her mother had been there.

If there was a world beyond this one... if love was stronger than death...

* * *

"Hold the line!" screamed Gibbs on the top of his lungs, and Ragetti squeezed his eyes shut and held the rope with all his might.

The broken mast was slowly lifted and several voices attempted to cheer the accomplishment, although all the crew members, those of them who were left, were feeling drained and exhausted after the storm that they had sailed through. The storm was not a severe one, but night storms were never pleasant, not to mention that this particular one caused them a farther delay in the pursuit of the _Endeavor_, which had seemed to be lucky enough to leave the storm behind, having experienced probably not more than a drizzle.

As soon as the weather calmed at the break of the day, Jack left the helm to James and headed for his cabin. Nobody dared to speak to him since it had become clear that they were not going to catch up with the _Endeavor_, and were doomed to merely follow Beckett's ship to Port Royal. Jack's chillingly grim, bordering on angry facial expression had, however, that one advantage that it had prevented the crew from expressing their diversified opinions concerning sailing to Port Royal at all. To stabilize the situation even more, Gibbs had done his best trying to explain the story of Davy Jones' heart to the crew, trying to explain why it was so important to get it, without divulging unnecessary details.

Jack crossed the deck in a few heavy steps, went down the stairs and through the corridor, kicking the door to his cabin open. He went straight to the cabinet, and pulled a dry shirt out of one of the drawers, throwing the soaking wet piece of garment that he was wearing onto the floor. It crossed his mind that Elizabeth still had his coat... and he hoped that it kept her if only a bit as warm as his arms would...

Gritting his teeth, he tried to convince himself that nothing bad was going to happen. Beckett wanted revenge and there was no revenge, at least for a man such as him, without an audience, so there was no reason to worry just yet. No reason.

He ran his hand across his face with a bitter snort. How was there no reason to worry with Elizabeth being somewhere else, anywhere else. Nothing could be alright with her being taken away, and he doubted she was not worrying about him, even though she must have guessed that he had been rescued from the water by those who had seen him falling over the rail of the _Endeavor_.

So she was worrying about him... as he was worrying about her... _Lizzie, Lizzie_, he shook his head glumly, _what did we get ourselves into... _It was supposed to be a pirate's life... and somehow it clandestinely turned into a very troublesome fairy tale... Pirates should not worry about others... pirates should threaten to strangle innocent people in order to make an escape... pirates should get people drunk to burn their rum if they found it fit... they should shoot their enemies and run to safety... fly, sail to freedom... and... never come back. They should watch their rivals being roasted and eaten... should do what they wanted to do... taste what they wanted to taste... they should kill with a kiss and... never come back.

Jack stared at several drawings that for some reason were placed in one of the drawers among his shirts, and he suddenly remembered that in all the frenzy of what had been happening he had never taken out of one of the drawers in his room in Shipwreck Cove their marriage papers. They were still there, where he had put them on their wedding night.

"We're such bad pirates, luv," he said in a soft, barely audible voice closing the drawer, and thinking about the past again.

"Personally, I think I'm a very good pirate."

Jack turned around abruptly, coming face to face with Ameerah who was standing by the door, smirking.

Jack rolled his eyes. "I'm goin' to put a sign on that door: knock before comin' in or ye'll be knocked out," he said with a sincere trace of irritation in his voice.

Ameerah laughed. "Oh, Jack, come on," she grimaced with slight impatience, approaching him quickly. "Ye know everythin' will be alright. There'd be no point for 'im in killin' 'er... just yet," she said in a lightheartedly reassuring tone of voice. Jack looked at her intensely, but said nothing, and then made a step to walk past her. "Jack..." Ameerah's hand skimmed across his arm and fell onto his shoulder, stopping him, "I mean it, everything will be alright." Jack nodded, and wanted to continue walking, but she stepped in front of him, swiftly sliding her hands over his shoulders. "I think I know of something that could make you feel better," she whispered with a sly smile, inching her lips closer to his.

Jack turned his head and gently but decidedly unwrapped her arms from around his neck. "I'm not in the mood for humorous behaviour."

Ameerah snatched her hands out of his. "Humorous behaviour?" she snorted and huffed in annoyance. "After all that has happened... all of a sudden you can't even kiss me. There is just something so ridiculous about it that I don't rightly know what to say," she concluded in a gradually hardening voice.

"I can kiss you," said Jack with a brief smile, and her facial expression relaxed a bit, but only for a moment. "But I don't want to," he added, and walked off, heading for the door.

"And how long will this last?" Ameerah swirled around, biting the inside of her cheek. "How many weeks or months before ye'll get tired of the same woman over and over again?"

Jack opened the door, and turned to her, a small, amused smile flickering across his face. "You should've seen an inflamed Lizzie. You wouldn't say it's the same woman," he said wistfully, and she was not sure what stung more, the tone of his voice or the name that he had used, both speaking of home and familiarity and everything that she had once wished to share with him.

"Feelings come and go, Jack," she started, pushing the hurtful thoughts away. "You know that, don't you," she stepped closer, tilting her head to the side, and almost involuntarily shutting the door with her foot.

Jack regarded her with wariness that she knew only too well; she knew that look in his eyes that meant that he considered whether diplomacy was at the moment worth more than anger. But somehow the realization did not discourage her from trying to reach for him again. She was not sure if she wanted that because of her feelings, or because of the urge to triumph, even if only temporarily, over that silly wench that was so sure of herself. Either way, having him so near was something she had craved for much too long to let the opportunity slip through her fingers.

"We've always been good friends, Ameerah. Don't break that," he took her hand off his cheek and held it for a moment before dropping it.

"Friends," she snorted. A glint of mischief flickered in her eyes and she smiled sneakily. "I see you made up your mind," she said, squinting. "Aye, be careful with me now. Ye annoy me too much, an' I might not stab the dreary piece of flesh, after all," she pursed her lips in a playful manner, but there was a clearly discernible edge to her voice.

"Ah," Jack narrowed his eyes in an artificial smile. "So now it's blackmailing, not an offer. I knew that was coming."

Ameerah laughed. "No, you didn't. And that's not it. I just..." Without a warning she threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck as tightly as possible. "I just missed you," she breathed. "Why couldn't we relive some good memories? One last time? I won't tell her, I promise," she bit her lip, and it abstractedly crossed Jack's mind that pouting itself was not something that had much effect on him; it was pouting Elizabeth that had.

He shook his head. "Good memories don't need reliving. In fact, reliving good memories might lead to ruining them, and therefore create ruined memories instead of good ones, ruining the previously good memories and making them ruined as well."

Ameerah blinked, and Jack used this opportunity to disentangle himself from her embrace.

"And if I say that this is my condition?" she asked challengingly, crossing her arms over her chest, quickly overcoming the chill of rejection that for a moment had made her think of just storming off the cabin.

"Now, that wouldn't be very friendly," said Jack, growing a bit tired of the conversation, and beginning to think that perhaps it had never been her intention to stab the heart. Perhaps she had just made it all up after learning what they were after.

"I've never been that, Jack," she said seriously in a low voice. "I wish you'd stop repeating that I was your _friend_."

"I'm at a loss for a better word," he retorted quietly, and she could not decide if he meant it as an apology or an insult. He became so strangely ambiguous... at least to her. Suddenly, she could not read him anymore. He was somewhere else... at least as far as his heart and soul were concerned.

"I see," she smiled humorlessly. "Strange you should say that, after all that we-"

"Ameerah," he cut in, and she trailed off, but could not resist adding:

"Not Amee darling?"

"Words come and go," he said after a pause, and for the first time since the beginning of the conversation she noticed that he was tired. His dreadlocks and his face were still damp from the rain, his breeches were sticking to his legs and his boots shone in the daylight. Only his shirt was fresh and dry. His shirt and his voice... She was no longer in his thoughts, and the realization was piercingly cold, and a part of her kept refusing to accept that. "Same words may have different meanings," he added, when she had not said anything in reply. "And we really do have more urgent matters at the moment," he glanced at the door, and she subconsciously leaned against it to stop him from walking out.

"I thought we could talk about us, I mean... about the past... for a while. Like... friends, if you insist."

"My wife is miles away on one ship with somebody whose thoughts are almost exclusively devoted to imagining me dying a long and painful death. Do you really think I'm in the mood for chatting?" asked Jack, losing patience. If that was going to be the only way, he would stab the heart himself. If that could save Elizabeth, if that could be the only solution...

"I wanted to be your wife once," Ameerah gave him a brief smile, not rightly knowing why she was prolonging this conversation. There was something humiliating in hearing him talk about _his wife_, when his humorous dismissal of her talking about them getting married a few years ago, still rang loudly in her ears. And she knew that he was using the title purposefully, to make her go away, but for some reason the more she felt that he wanted to get rid of her, the more she wanted to stay. "Or more than once," she risked a smile. "She will hurt you," she continued in a different tone, before he interrupted her. "She will, you'll see."

Jack's mouth twitched into a warmly ironical smile. "We're past that. And she won't," he added, sliding a hand behind Ameerah. She smiled, pleasantly surprised, but then he pressed the knob, opening the door against which she was leaning, and nearly causing her to fall backwards at the unexpected loss of support behind her.

"If you want to stab the heart prepare to step on land when we arrive," he said, gently shoving her away. "If you don't..." he stepped out of his cabin, and turned around meeting her intense gaze, "then stay here and wait for our return or find another way to get back to your ship."

"I do want to stab the heart," she said with a hint of puzzling determination in her voice, and Jack made a mental note to keep an eye on her at all times. "And I'm coming ashore." Jack nodded and turned around, but she continued. "If you just kiss me. Once. This is not much to ask for, is it?"

* * *

Words. Death was in words: ill-used, mis-meant, unsaid... People were dying _to _each other by saying what they did not mean, not saying what they wanted to say... Somehow there was a connection, even if it was not entirely true...

Truth, yes. That was another part... so many of them there was to find, to understand... and he just did not have the time...

"Come in."

He pressed the doorknob made out of black glass.

In fact, no one ever had time... At least, not enough...

"You wanted to speak to me?" Chronos rose from his seat when the herald entered, eyebrows knitted in thoughtful irritation, a contradiction that seemed so strangely natural that for the first time a question crossed his mind, who that god of time really was?

Whom he was _before_ he became Time?... If everybody had been given a path...

"I need to eliminate a memory trace..." The herald's voice lingered as it had never had and Chronos squinted. "Just one. It was polluted by a time travel incident-"

"_My_ memory serves me well," Chronos interrupted him in mid-sentence. "You don't need to speak to me in blank riddles."

The herald's colorless eyes dropped to the floor for a moment, and then he looked up again. "History might take a different turn if they would meet while he still remembered her from the past... too well... at all... I-"

"It's been taken care of," said Chronos with a trace of a smile flitting across his face, but the herald was standing too far to take any notice of it. "Although I am surprised-" he paused, and waved his hand dismissively when herald's colorless eyes met his own. "If this is all?..." he gestured toward the door.

The herald nodded slowly, and with sudden abruptness turned around, but then stopped in his tracks.

"Yes?" Chronos' voice rang hollowly in the empty room.

"I don't know if I..." the herald turned around. "If I expressed it well enough..." Chronos arched an eyebrow. "That... memory trace... should be eliminated, but not fully."

Chronos gave him a sour half-smile. "You know what it leads to. It always causes troubles. Not eliminating memory traces completely results in-"

"Love at first sight," the herald interrupted him in a blank voice, his eyes fixed on an invisible point somewhere in the distance. Chronos looked at him for a moment in silence. "Allow the memories to stay, but let the visual remembrance fade," the herald's eyes shifted to him once again. "I believe that in this case allowing the history to flow as it should is the best course of action."

"Do you?"

Herald's face twitched in slight confusion, and Chronos waved his hand at him in another dismissive gesture. "Be on your way."

Death's colorless eyes studied him for a moment in silence, myriads of questions floating in the air, and yet he asked none of them. After a moment of consideration he bowed with slight reluctance, and left the room.

When the door closed behind him, Chronos pulled out a small, silver clock out of his pocket, and looked at it with raised eyebrows. "Quite impressive..." he murmured to himself, and put the clock away, "...it might turn out to be..."

* * *

"Elizabeth?"

The room seemed to be spinning around, even though she was conscious enough to know that it could not possibly be doing it.

"Elizabeth."

Having at last recognized her father's voice, she decided that it did not sound alarming enough for her to open her eyes... or perhaps she just tried to find a pretext to sleep on...

But then she felt an unpleasant ache in her hand and the searing memory brushed the remnants of sleep off her mind. She opened her eyes, and abruptly sat upright, causing her father to gasp first in surprise and then in relief.

"Thank God," he whispered and leaned back and Elizabeth smiled at him weakly, catching a strange sight out of the corner of her eye.

"Where are we?" she asked, even though she knew exactly where they were. She scanned the room with a mixture of nostalgia and disbelief.

"At our house. Or..." the Governor hesitated. "Or at least in what used to be our house," he corrected reluctantly.

"What time is it?" Elizabeth ran her hand across her face and through her hair, trying to concentrate. The pain in her other hand ebbed, but there was still that pulsating sensation that made it feel uncomfortably numb.

Governor Swann shook his head. "I don't know exactly," he said with a sigh. "We arrived around noon, and now the sun is setting."

Elizabeth's eyes widened at that. "I slept for that long?" Quickly, she counted the hours and the days in her head.

Sunset... of the second day... and tomorrow their time would be up, tomorrow was the day when they had to deliver the heart to Davy Jones... and Calypso... and find somebody to stab the heart as Chronos had requested... all at once. And they had only a few more hours. And they had been separated. And...

She put her head in her hands and sighed.

"Elizabeth?" The Governor looked at her worriedly.

"No, no, it's nothing," she shook her head, giving her father the bravest smile she could muster. "I just-"

They both jumped at the sound of the door being pushed open. The Governor stood up, and Elizabeth quickly slid off the bed, right before Beckett entered the room, followed by Mercer and two other guards, one of them carrying an ivory dress that immediately caught Elizabeth's attention. She was about to state right away that she was not going to wear this, but then she heard Beckett order Governor Swann to be taken away, and all other thoughts flew away from her.

"Where are you taking him?" she asked, proceeding to follow the guards who were escorting the protesting Governor out of the room, but as soon as they were out in the corridor, Mercer blocked the door, stopping her.

"Not too far away," replied Beckett coolly. "Close enough for you to still hold his fate in your hands," he added levelly.

Elizabeth did not turn around toward him, facing Mercer instead. But then Mercer looked up, apparently exchanging glances with Beckett, and without looking at her again, turned around, and to Elizabeth's stupefaction left the room.

There was a moment of silence, and then Beckett put into words a chilling thought that had already flashed across Elizabeth's mind:

"And so it seems that we are alone at last."


	61. Chapter 61

A/N: _**Thank you so much for all the amazing reviews! **_**:)**

...I'm sorry for the late update! This chapter just got so _tragically_ long... ;)

Disclaimer: I don't own Jack, Elizabeth, etc.

**Chapter 61**

Elizabeth took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. The _Black Pearl _must have followed the _Endeavor_, so Jack should arrive in Port Royal soon, if he had not already... All she needed to do was to stall for a bit of time and preferably find out where the heart was.

"We've been alone before," said Elizabeth, turning around so abruptly, that Beckett who was crossing the room and walking toward her came to a sudden stop. "And correct me if I'm wrong," she wrinkled her forehead, as if in deep thought. "Last time when we were alone I threatened you with a pistol and you obediently did what I requested you to," she added with a small, sarcastic smile.

She had expected him to express some kind of irritation, but Beckett's face remained blank, except for a flicker of a sneer flitting across his lips. "Shall we relive that?" he asked after a pause, taking an ostentatious glance over the window. "Reversing the roles, of course," he added in a low voice.

Elizabeth gritted her teeth, and crossed the room to take a look outside herself. She pushed one of the curtains away, and her eyes widened at the sight of her father in the garden, four armed guards keeping an eye on him, one of them looking up, not accidentally, but rather as if waiting for something. She cast a sharp glance at Beckett who smiled briefly in response.

"So what would it be?" he asked evenly, tilting his head to the side. "Your father's life, or your..." he paused, "agreeableness," he added, inching his face closer to hers, and reaching out to brush a lock of her hair off her face.

She angrily pushed his hand away. "You won't kill him. You need him," she said through her clenched teeth.

"No, I don't," he replied plainly, and Elizabeth felt her heart skip a bit. "He would make a useful Captain of the _Flying Dutchman_, that's true," Beckett shrugged, and turned around with a small sigh, walking toward the chair on which one of the guards had left the ivory dress before exiting the room. "But there are other possibilities as well," he added, stopping in front of it. "There always are other possibilities..."

Elizabeth smiled wryly. "You're bluffing."

"Am I?" Beckett turned around, and raised an eyebrow. The amusement in his voice was as annoying as it was unsettling.

Elizabeth squinted. If he thought that he had already won, he was wrong. "Thoroughly," she said coolly.

He looked at her for a moment in silence. "Do elaborate," he said at last, looking away from her and taking a few slow steps toward the window.

"It must be tiring, that continuous masquerade," said Elizabeth distinctly, "aimed at gaining a make-believe respect." She glanced out of the window where Beckett's eyes were fixed on the group below. Her father was standing there with a grim expression on his face. Suddenly, he seemed much older than he really was and she felt her heart clench at the realization that everything bad that had ever happened and was still happening to him, was somehow always caused by or at least related to her. "You need so many assets," she continued in a steady voice, looking at Beckett again, "words, titles and tears to feel secured in your artificial, hollow world. And yet you know very well that all that you receive in return is just as hollow and worthless. You have nothing and you will never have anything."

Beckett stood motionlessly with his hands clasped behind his back, and although his face was expressionless, Elizabeth could sense his annoyance in the way he kept staring out of the window.

Perhaps it was unwise to aggraviate him, but somehow she could not stop herself from doing it. She took a step closer to him, and sneered faintly. "No matter how hard you will try, you will never be _him_," she whispered, and he finally looked at her.

"I don't want to be him, my dear future wife," he answered slowly, and then quickly, before she had a chance to interrupt him, grabbed her arm, and yanked her closer to the window. "I don't need to be him," he waved his hand and one of the guards in the garden nodded, and uttered some kind of order that Elizabeth could not hear. She could only see when all of a sudden one of the soldiers raised his musket and hit the Governor with it.

"No!" Elizabeth threw herself on the window glass with a gasp. She swirled around in infuriation, glaring at Beckett.

"I can have everything that he has and more," said Beckett levelly. "Why would I want to be him?" He reached out, and before Elizabeth stepped back, he closed his hand around her right forearm exactly where the brand was. He squeezed hard and pulled her toward him.

She winced at the sudden pain that she had just barely managed to forget, and bit her lip to keep from crying out.

"I'll tell you what I want," he said, pushing her against the wall, and digging his fingernails in the thin cloth covering the brand, roughly propping her chin with his other hand. "I want him to see his ship burn again," he said in a low voice, bringing his face closer to hers. "I want the image of his wife in my bed haunt him at nights. I want him to be, to _die _broken, defeated, betrayed..."

Elizabeth tried to snatch her face from his hand's grip and free herself, but he pressed himself closer against her, blocking her movements.

"It's not going to happen," she said through her teeth, looking at him with cold self-assurance that she wished she really felt.

"Oh, it is, it is," said Beckett with cool amusement, suddenly crashing his mouth across hers.

Elizabeth thrashed her arms, trying to break the kiss, but he dug his nails even deeper into the fresh wound in her hand, and she shuddered and whimpered for a moment paralyzed by the pain, and by her hand burning as if she was being branded again. She tried to push him away, hitting him awkwardly on the head with her fist, trying to kick him. But when she finally succeeded, instead of letting go off her, he drew back, and backhanded her so hard that her head turned to the side and she gasped, repulsed by the kiss, and shocked by the blow.

Next thing she knew, she was threw against the window, Beckett's breath hot on her neck. "One signal from me, and they will begin... You cannot imagine how some soldiers enjoy mistreating those people who used to hold high positions," he whispered into her ear, his arm wrapped tightly around her waist from behind and keeping her from snatching herself away. "Have you ever seen a man beaten to death?" he asked, inhaling the scent of her hair that paired with the taste of her lips suddenly made his head spin. He had only intended to frighten her tonight, but perhaps there was no reason to deny himself now what he was going to do later anyway.

Elizabeth stared at the sight below, the setting sun and a few lanterns throwing more shadows than lights over the group of soldiers and her father standing in the garden. She saw one of the soldiers still looking straight at her room's window, and she felt cold shivers run down her spine. She tried to ignore the pain in her hand, ignore the nauseating memory of the kiss, and concentrate on thinking about something she could do or say to gain more time...

She used all her strength to abruptly turn around when she felt Beckett's hands reaching for Jack's coat's buttons. She glared at him wondering whether the door was closed and whether there were guards outside. Most likely. Although if she ran very fast and opened the door with extreme suddenness, perhaps she would have a chance to run past the guards and head down the stairs and to the garden...

"You seem upset," said Beckett in a blank voice. "I thought pirate wenches were used to being manhandled," he said evenly, glancing at the red mark on her cheek.

"You bastard," hissed Elizabeth with disgust, and struck him as hard as she could, causing him to loosen his embrace around her. Unfortunately, even though her action surprised him, he managed to catch her before she ran toward the door.

"I see you don't understand," he said in a low voice, shoving her against the wall.

"Take your dirty hands off me!" she shouted, punching his jaw with her left hand, and grimacing when he once again gripped her branded hand.

"Perhaps you fear that my hands are not dirty enough to please you?" he asked with a flitting sneer, forcefully pulling the coat down her shoulders and off her arms, buttons falling to the floor with numb noise.

Elizabeth quickly covered her chest with her free arm, trying to snatch her other hand free as well, but he twisted it in one swift movement, causing her to wince.

"If you won't stop this, I'll order them to begin showing your father what the punishment for siding with pirates feels like. Is that what you want?" he regarded her unblinkingly, admitting to himself that he was quite certain he had not encountered in his life a woman more beautiful, and more spirited for that matter, than she. Even an expression of anger on her face did not lessen her beauty, maybe even added to it, her eyes blazing with fire that along with the prospect of his long-awaited revenge made his blood run faster in his veins.

"You wouldn't dare," said Elizabeth coldly, doing her best to keep her voice from quivering. It could not happen, it just could not happen, it was not possible, there had to be a way out of this, something would happen, somebody would come, it was not possible that something as horrible as that could happen to her, it just could not.

There was a voice in the back of her head countering her half-hearted, feverishly reassuring thoughts, but she tried not to think about it.

Maybe in the next moment the door would open and Jack would appear in the doorway. She just had to hold on for a bit longer, just for a bit-

Beckett's smile caused her thoughts to disperse. "Do you want me to open the window so you could hear his screams well?" he asked in a calmly sardonic tone, his eyes openly roaming over her chest that was protected from his gaze only by her arm draped across it. Out of the corner of her eye she saw a scrap of a carmine fabric sticking out of the coat's pocket that was lying on the floor pooled around her feet. Red fabric... She recognized it half-consciously, feeling tears well up in her eyes at the realization that Jack had been apparently carrying her wedding dress in his coat's pocket for all this time.

"How can you live with yourself?" she asked in a low voice, shifting her eyes to Beckett's face, and quickly blinking back the tears.

Beckett snorted. "A strange question for a woman who associates herself with lowly criminals. You would have done your father a favor killing yourself as soon as you have ruined yours and subsequently his reputation, doubtlessly disgracing your entire family," he said coolly, firmly placing his hand on her waist, and trapping her between himself and the wall once again.

Elizabeth wanted to push his hand away, but it would require uncovering her chest, as her other branded hand was still held by Beckett in a tight grasp.

He sneered faintly, sensing her dilemma. "Don't pretend to have any modesty left after spending months among pirates. You must have warmed more than one bed," he added in a speculative tone, tilting his head to the side, and Elizabeth felt her cheeks redden from infuriation.

"You're disgusting," she said quietly, giving him the most coldly condescending look she could muster. She needed to stay calm. Fear was not going to help her get out of this predicament. She had to be calm and she had to concentrate. Surely if she concentrated well enough, she could come up with some kind of solution. After all, was it not what Jack was always doing? Finding a way out of any situation, just by coming up with a sudden idea, staying calm and acting on an impulse, looking for opportune moments and taking advantage of whatever circumstances he was in.

Jack... Jack... Jack... His name alone used to calm her. She forced an inward smile, trying to trigger courageous impulses within her panicked mind.

"I will tell you a secret," Beckett inched his face closer to hers, and she pressed her lips tightly together looking at him scornfully. "It doesn't matter who touches you," he said, brushing his thumb across her skin. She stiffened and raised her leg to kick him like she had done before, but he was faster and swiftly stomped his boot over hers, almost crushing her toes. She winced. "It always feels the same. It's only a matter of skill," he leaned closer. "And I promise not to leave you unsatisfied," he whispered into her ear.

With a stifled groan, using all her strength Elizabeth took her hand off her chest, and digging her nails in his face pushed him away.

"Damn harlot," he hissed, automatically letting go of her and putting his hand to his eye which Elizabeth had apparently managed to hurt with one of her fingernails. Turning around, he sneered at Elizabeth's attempt to open the door.

She pressed the knob several time more and bit her lip with a stifled moan. The door was locked.

* * *

It was already dark when the _Black Pearl_ reached Port Royal, the buildings' silhouettes reminding Jack of when he had come here for the first time. It seemed to be in another life, almost... Back then he had had no care in the world but to find the _Pearl_ and place that one bullet in Barbossa's mutinous heart.

He knitted his eyebrows, thinking briefly of what had become of Barbossa? He must have been captured, perhaps he had still been on the _Endeavor_. Well, if he was, all the better. Nobody was going to worry about that. Rescuing Barbossa would have really been an abnormal deed, even for such a good man like Captain Jack Sparrow.

Shaking his head with a humorless half-smile, Jack lowered himself to the longboat, exchanging a look with Gibbs who widened his eyes at him meaningfully.

Ameerah was also sitting in the longboat, but staring out at the dark sea and not even sparing them a glance. Jack took an oar and sat down in the longboat with a small sigh. Gibbs bit back a smile. Captain Fiero had not looked at Jack or had spoken a single word to him since he had agreed to kiss her, had gone back to his cabin with her, and then having kissed her hand in the most chivalrous manner, had swiftly left her there, locking the door, and unlocking it only after they had arrived at their destination.

"Maybe we should've let Will come along, after all," observed Gibbs in a low voice, when they were nearing the land, starless sky hanging above them like a heavy curtain about to fall.

Jack snorted under his breath. "Trust him to come along as soon as he discovers it's the stupidest thing he can possibly do," muttered Jack with a twitch of his nose.

"Stupidity is danger, at moments like these," observed Gibbs ominously with a hint of worry in his voice.

Jack glanced at him in the moonlit semi-darkness. "We're better off in danger of his stupidity than company at the moment," answered Jack in a low voice.

Gibbs wrinkled his forehead, but after a moment of consideration decided to let the events rather than words answer his questions.

The longboat, followed by three other boats with half of the _Pearl_'s remaining crew, sailed soundlessly toward the shore.

* * *

It was quiet and dark and far away – from everything. He could not hear his own footsteps as he suddenly realized. Yet, while he had lived he had never thought about listening to his own footsteps... or anybody's footsteps, for that matter...

He would have listened now, should he be given a chance; he would have listened to _Elizabeth_'s footsteps...

There were people in the garden and he squinted at them as he walked by, unnoticed, unseen... invisible.

Death was so similar to life, he thought wearily, his colorless eyes lingering for a moment at the sad, worried face of one of the men, the only one with the chains around his wrists.

Somehow he guessed right away that the man was not worrying about himself. Strange, how many clues one's face carried, how much truth there was to be found in everybody's gaze, how clearly discernible were the feelings that caused tears...

Strange, how easily evil could be done.

And undone, perhaps?...

* * *

"A caged bird. How ironic," Beckett slowly crossed the room, glancing at Elizabeth's back, and approaching a table where a lantern and a few unlit candles sat. He started lighting the candles, observing her out of the corner of his eye.

Elizabeth wrapped her arms around herself feeling cold from the lack of a shirt and from her thoughts. It was humiliating and at the same time so enraging that she could not quite decide which emotion was taking over.

She closed he eyes for a moment trying to calm down and concentrate.

It was her room. She used to have in one of her drawers a small knife for opening the letters. If she could only get to her desk fast enough to open the drawer and grab it. If it was still there, of course...

Turning from the door, she took a step toward the bed, and grabbed one of the covers, draping it over herself.

Beckett smiled with blank amusement. "You'll be allowed to wear this," he said, glancing at the ivory dress. Elizabeth shot him a disdainful look. "Afterwards," he added flatly, holding her gaze.

He wondered briefly how she would look if she was not so angry and irritated with him at the moment. How would it feel to have her out of her own free will? Who knew, perhaps once she would get used to her situation-

He squinted when she started crossing the room in fast steps, and grabbed her arm, before she reached her desk.

"If I forgot to mention it..." he said in a low, smooth voice, squeezing her arm until she grimaced. "You're not allowed to even take a step without my consent. Is that clear?"

"Like your conscience," whispered Elizabeth through her clenched teeth, gathering all her strength and kicking him as she had been once advised to do by Barbossa in one of their conversations on their way to Singapore. She had told him then that she had not wanted or needed any valuable pieces of wisdom from him, for she was sufficiently wise on her own. However, as she now watched Beckett crumple to the floor with a moan of pain, she thought that perhaps Barbossa deserved a slice of an apple pie for that particular advice.

She leaped to her desk and opened the drawer, searching frantically for the knife with one hand, holding the cover around herself with another. _Bloody decency_, she thought wryly, subconsciously wondering how ridiculous it was that she was able to shackle a man to the mast and leave him to die, but could not search for the knife that could save her life naked.

She threw the papers from her desk onto the floor and finally found the knife. She grabbed it with a gasp, and turned around-

Beckett stood before her, a grimace of pain still on his face. Without thinking, Elizabeth raised her hand to stab him where she remembered she had stabbed him before during the battle on the _Black Pearl_, and hoping that it would cause him more pain and therefore distract him better than a fresh wound.. She was hoping to get to the door, and somehow open the lock with the knife.

But he surprised her by slapping her hand away and slamming her against the wall. She slid to the floor with a stifled scream, her fall made softer by Jack's coat on which she had fallen. She managed not to drop the knife, and clasped it even more tightly in her hand, trying to stand up.

Beckett's boots quickly came into view, and before she managed to stand on her own, he grabbed her hair and pulled her upwards. "How can I treat you like a lady," he whispered with calm malice, "if you behave like a common-"

Elizabeth's eyes widened at the sight of a candle hitting Beckett's head and his wig suddenly standing on fire. He let go of her, and quickly threw the wig to the floor, abruptly turning around and looking warily around the room. But the room was empty, and other candles still sat on the table as before.

Elizabeth's glanced around the room, a small flicker of hope flashing across her mind, that perhaps Jack-

She shuddered and stiffened at the sudden sensation of Jack's coat suddenly... draping itself over her arms, and slowly she shifted her eyes to the side, looked up and froze at the sight.

Beckett turned back toward her and regarded her stunned facial expression with his eyes narrowed.

And then suddenly she looked at him, then to his left side, and then at him again, but before he even began thinking what was going on, he felt somebody punch him, then hit him on the head, and before his vision and senses went black, he saw Elizabeth ran to the door and trying to open it again.

* * *

"Strange..." murmured one of the guards, squinting into the darkness, and looking curiously at the window above.

"What is it?" asked the other guard disinterestedly, glancing at the Governor while walking past him.

"I could swear I saw a candle jump up in the air, and fly away all by itself," said the guard, wrinkling his forehead.

The other soldiers laughed.

"You haven't quite waited with drinking until the end of duty today, have you?" asked one of them, and the others laughed again.

The guard shot his companions a stern look.

"Must be Lord Beckett," proposed one of them matter-of-factly, looking up at the window as well. "Dousing the candles," he added with a wink. Another soldier whistled and the other chuckled.

Governor Swann's stared at the window, his blood freezing in his veins.

* * *

"Leave me alone!" shouted Elizabeth, taking a step away from the door. She quickly slid her hands into Jack's coat's sleeves, and hugged herself, shooting an anxious look at Beckett who lay unconscious on the floor.

The herald looked at her blankly for a moment, and then proceeded to try and open the door with her knife that she had not realized she had dropped.

"What do you want from me?" she asked in a low tone, watching his actions with wariness, and shifting her eyes from his hands to his face.

He seemed concentrated on what he was doing and did not look at her. He opened the door in silence, and apparently having checked that there were no guards by the door, opened it wider, and only then finally looked at her.

"Go," he said quietly, indicating the empty corridor with his hand.

Elizabeth stared at him and distrust in her eyes hurt him, but not as much as the sight of her, shaking, scared, exhausted, with bruises on her arms and a wound under a bandage, that were now hidden under the coat. Her eyes were shining from anxiety and from some kind of desperate bravery that he had come to associate with light... that he had learned to love... that he was going to miss...

He extended his hand to her, and she drew back. He dropped his gaze for a moment, but then looked at her again. "I'm trying to let you go," he said quietly, and she grimaced, not quite understanding his words, not until he reached out, slowly, and without taking his eyes off her, took one of her hands in his. On an impulse, she wanted to snatch her hand away, but not quite knowing why she did not, and then suddenly when she looked at her own hand she saw a small, gleaming ring lift itself off her finger, and disperse into the thin air.

She wrinkled her forehead in confusion, hit by the realization, by the vague memory that he had put that ring on her hand a day before the dawn, _that _dawn. A ring that she could see, but could not feel... But now it was gone - completely.

"What kind of trick is this?" she asked, glancing between still unconscious Beckett, the door that stood ajar, and Chronos' herald's face.

"It's not a trick," he replied blankly, although she had a strange impression that there was a shadow of a smile in his voice. "A truce, maybe," he added quietly, looking away.

"Maybe," echoed Elizabeth suspiciously, but when he looked at her again she somehow understood that he had not wanted it to sound suspicious; probably just did not know how to say it right...

"May it be," he said rhythmically, and almost smiled, but then grimaced, and opened the door wider yet. "You should go-" he trailed off, and taking a sharp intake of breath added quickly, "Elizabeth."

Elizabeth looked at him questioningly, and wondered what he seemed to be waiting for, looking at her half-expectantly, half-hopefully. But she kept silent and so his facial expression relaxed a bit.

Hesitantly, she stepped closer to the door, her eyes fixed on his face. Her hair was in disarray, loose strands falling over her shoulders, and for a moment he considered reaching out and brushing a particularly astray lock off her cheek, but the wariness in her gaze stopped him, and he just took a step back to make it easier for her to walk out of the room.

She glanced at unconscious Beckett once again, then looked into the herald's colorless eyes, and slipped out through the door, quickly reaching the stairs and running down as fast as she could.

The herald watched her go, and when he lost sight of her he rested his head against the door frame, and stared numbly at the floor, sparkles of rainbow flickering in his eyes.

Soon he was to take somebody's life again. And for the first time he wished he had a power to choose who was going to die. But it was not his choice to make. Should it be his choice, he would have chosen differently.

Why did those stories always end wrong?...

He would not have chosen the one person whose death was going to permanently break _her_ heart...

* * *

"Blasted weather," muttered one of the soldiers glaring at the sky, as if his stern looks could stop the rain.

It was getting colder and the rain was getting heavier with every minute, and the guards were beginning to get irritated with the orders that were apparently going to keep them out in the rain throughout the night.

"Couldn't we just go inside?" proposed one of them, straightening up his coat's collar.

"Lord Beckett told us to stay here," said the other guard firmly. "And I am to watch this window, which I won't be able to do from the inside," he added with a hint of irritation in his voice.

Governor Swann listened to the exchange watching the guards warily, and wondering if it would not be a good idea to just take the risk and try to escape... shackled or not... at least he would cause some kind of commotion, and he doubted they would kill him just yet, having been apparently given specific orders to keep him alive.

"Or you could stay here, and we could go inside," said another guard with a shrug, eliciting a few chuckles from the other guards and a humorless look from the guard who was in charge of watching the window.

"Or ye could just all turn around and run."

"Or we could-" started repeating one of the guards, but then trailed off, and looked in the direction in which everybody else was looking, although it was hard to see anything clearly in the semi-darkness of the garden.

"Unless ye wish t' die here an' now, in which case who are we to disobey yer last wishes?"

Pintel grinned, pressing his pistol's barrel to one of the soldier's forehead, while Ragetti pointed his gun at another soldier, who having taken a surreptitious look around noticed that there were people all around them, coming out of the bushes with pistols and cutlasses in their hands.

* * *

That seemed to be it, his answer. It made much sense, the longer he thought about it. It was not death that was wrong; it was that death always came to wrong people or at wrong moments. That was why all the stories went awry, that was the flaw that disturbed justice, that ripped apart the serenity of life.

_Neither hours, not women_, he thought. _Losing those whom you love is what hurts._ _All deaths hurt, the last kills. _

_Because that last death - is your own._

* * *

Elizabeth ran down the stairs holding her breath and praying that she could slip out of the house unnoticed. She had to free her father somehow. Perhaps she could think of a way to distract the soldiers' attention if Beckett would remain unconscious for several more minutes.

She reached the door and wanted to open it, but hesitated. What if there was somebody guarding the door? She had no weapon.

She slid her hands into Jack's coat's pockets, but apart from her shredded wedding dress there was nothing there.

She smiled faintly remembering how his hands had trembled when he had tried to unbutton this dress, how she had told him to just-

The door suddenly opened, and with a gasp she jumped away from it, almost fainting from dismay that she was going to be caught so soon-

But then her heart skipped a bit, and her eyes widened in utter astonishment.

"Jack!..." she whispered with joyous disbelief, throwing her arms around his neck, and biting back a grimace at the unpleasant sensation in her branded hand.

He wrapped his arms around her tightly, weaving his fingers into her ruffled hair, and pressing his lips to her cheek. "Lizzie-lu-" He trailed off unable to finish his sentence with her arms so tight around his neck. He smiled at her nearly strangling him. "Are you alright?" he managed to finally ask when she drew back a little. "Lizzie? Are are al-"

"Yes," she nodded quickly, and smiled. "Yes," she whispered running her fingertips all over his face.

He quickly kissed her fingers several times when they brushed across his lips and hugged her. "We need to stop losing each other," he whispered into her ear and pressed soft, rushed kisses to her cheek, cupping a side of her face with his hand.

Elizabeth cuddled closer to him. "I know," she said quietly, biting her lip, and blinking back the tears. "It won't happen again," she said, leaning her forehead against his. "It was the last time," she placed her hand on his cheek and smiled faintly, pressing her lips to his.

He kissed her, and the world was bright again; his lips so familiarly sweet and gritty, his arms around her, and in that one moment she remembered all the kisses they had shared, all the looks they had given each other, all the words...

She was rescued from the ominously tranquil waters once again, a chain around her neck, fire in his eyes and a beautifully dark night around them, thousands mysteries in his smile, _peas in a pod_. And then he was gone, disappearing just from where she had fallen before, how strange, she thought, they both had escaped in the same manner... only for her it was an accidental fall and for him a conscious flight... But at that time she had not known how to fly...

There was no time, and when they drew apart they hesitated for a moment, but then grinning sheepishly at each other they fell into a kiss once again. "Just one more," whispered Elizabeth, and flew across the deck of the _Black Pearl_, glittering pieces of their banters sparkling in her memory all the way through and up to the moment of her betrayal, of another fall... a flight, but a wrong one to take... But at that time she had not known how to fly well...

His fingers slid into her hair, and he deepened the kiss, her strange travel into the past flashing across her mind like a dream, like a nightmare, a journey in between... A grieving sinner lost in a retrieved paradise; and she could still see his eyes when she had seen him in Tortuga then, when she had thought that in the future he had died by her hand... She remembered their feverish kisses in a room upstairs... she could remember the room at all... only his arms around her, fire and trust in his eyes and then there was the fire in the tavern and he had rescued her again... And everything that had happened after that... in the past and when she had come back to the present...

She could not remember the exact moment when it had happened... but right now, in his arms she was certain that she finally knew how to fly – how to fly well enough to see the stars, the stormy seas and clouded mountains, the sun and... the shadows on the moon - all at once.

* * *

Leaving Gibbs and the Governor Swann in the garden, Ameerah went closer to the house and started to climb, quickly reaching the first floor, and to the Governor's displeased surprise, and as if having Cutler Beckett living in his house was not bad enough, she broke one of the windows with the hilt of her sword, and slipped inside.

The room was dark, and while crossing it Ameerah stumbled upon at least one piece of furniture, glaring daggers at the invisible object.

Where could Beckett hide the heart? Would he hide it in the first place? Perhaps he kept it exposed so he could rejoice in the fact of possessing it all the time, she thought with a sarcastic smile. The man had not triggered any positive feelings, unless a specific kind of fearsomeness could be considered positive. She was not afraid of him of course, but there was a shadow of unpredictability about him, and it was not similar in any way to Jack's charming improvisation skills; rather to the reactions of a strange, wild animal that seemed listless at one moment only to jump right at its prey with its sharp paws in the next one.

Ameerah went out of the room, and into the corridor. Across the hallway there was another room, and she saw light under the door there. Cautiously, she crept to the door and pushed it open.

* * *

Running trough the door, Gibbs stopped abruptly in his tracks, not really surprised, and yet rather worried by the sight. He rolled his eyes with a sigh. Governor Swann, who had followed him after having refused to be escorted by Pintel and Ragetti to the _Black Pearl_ without Elizabeth, diplomatically looked away.

"Perhaps we should hurry a tad bit more," proposed Gibbs cautiously in a loud voice, causing Jack and Elizabeth to draw apart.

"I was 'bout to say the very same thing, Mister Gibbs," said Jack a bit breathlessly.

Gibbs smiled, and Elizabeth smiled as well seeing her father safe and sound. But before she even had a chance to express her joy at seeing him, a sudden noise of dozens of boots and shouting followed by deafening sound of breaking glass startled them all.

The glass from the broken windows fell to the floor, and armed soldiers ran into the house from both sides of the garden.

"Too late too hurry, I'm afraid."

The eyes of the four of them shifted to Beckett who in a partially burned wig descended the stairs; Mercer's dark figure looming behind him.

The soldiers formed a circle around them, and Elizabeth wondered if Jack and Gibbs had come here all alone, which seemed rather unlikely. She took a surreptitious glance out of the broken windows, but the garden was so dark, the moonlight too faint to allow her to see anything.

"It's never too late too hurry."

Everybody's attention shifted again, but this time also Beckett turned around. He squinted at the woman that was standing on the top of the stairs.

Ameerah smiled, and jumped at the railing, sliding all the way down, and landing on her feet in front of Beckett and Mercer, a small, pulsating pouch in her hand.

"Especially it's never too late to start making arrangements with a new Captain of the _Flying Dutchman_," she said with a smile.

Elizabeth glanced at Jack, but he did not seem surprised by her words. Elizabeth bit her lip, trying to push away the thoughts of just how Jack had managed to persuade her to make such a sacrifice and stab the heart. If she really intended to do that, of course.

* * *

So much light, so much sparkling shadows that meant everything... suddenly... always... He had never thought moonlight cruel, but it did seem cruel now, illuminating the scene, the last act, and here he was thrown into a play that was finally real, a nightmare staged, a dream shattered...

Whose dream?...

He stood by one of the broken windows in his sad invisibility, all the colors of rainbow flashing in his eyes...

It was so strange to look at her, her hand in his, their shoulders touching, her strange wedding dress in the color of blood... She stood next to him and she was going to lose him... it was going to change her, change that light in her eyes, made it fade away, disappear... _All deaths hurt, the last kills. _If he died, her light - _she_ would die together with him...

He suddenly remembered all those women, those brides, their brightness vanishing, his indifference growing... he could not remember his own thoughts at those moments anymore; it was as if he had gone back, all the way back...

To where?...

There was a moment, there must have been, when he had known what it felt like... to feel. Before she had reminded him, before her light had brought him back the colors of the clouds... those colors that he had believed in even if nobody else had ever seen them...

He did not know how it happened, and who fired first. There was a commotion, the eyes of the girl with a pouch widening in dismay, and then Jack pushed Elizabeth aside, she screamed, somebody cursed, a few more fire shots, a chaos... One more scream...

Jack fell to the floor with Elizabeth holding him, his blood on her hands, her eyes as wide as two pale moons; shock, pain, panic and fear like tangible shadows strangling her, and all he could hear were her feverish words, her husband's name on her lips, blood flowing from his chest, carmine like her wedding dress...

Death looked at her; his heart hammering in his chest,

..._I love you, Elizabeth_...

Light, light everywhere!...

...no words had ever made more sense-

...the silver pistol slick in his hand.


	62. Chapter 62

A/N: _**Thank you so much for all the amazing reviews! **_**:)**

...only 1 more chapter after this one and then an epilogue! :)

...& also, in case I won't manage to post the next chapter before Christmas, **I would like to wish you all a Wonderful, Magical, and Very ****Merry Christmas!!!!!!!**** :):):):):):):)**

Spoiler/warning: character's death

Disclaimer: PotC belong to Disney.

**Chapter 62**

_With a smile, she placed the finished picture next to the mysterious pirate medallion under the fake drawer's bottom and closed the drawer, quickly climbing back into the bed, and tugging the cover under her chin, looking intently at the dark window. Moonlight was faint, and was barely illuminating the ocean. She was not sure if she could really hear the waves crashing against the shore, or was it only her imagination? Sometimes it was hard to tell... She squeezed her eyes shut and opened them again, glancing around hopefully, but then falling against the pillows with a sigh. Apparently, it did not work that easy. No matter how hard she wished, he never appeared. Perhaps it was naïve to think that he would, and yet... Her mother had told her that if she wished for something really, really hard, it would come true._

_But somehow she could not make the hero from her beloved books appear in her room. Why should he, after all? He did not know her, did not know that she wanted him to appear... Only magic could make him appear here, and she did not believe in magic. Adventures were her fairy tales, adventures could really happen, they were not out of reach... at least not completely._

_She turned on her side, hugging one of the pillows, and looking absently at her night table, at the several books piled up there._

_Would not it be wonderful if he appeared here after all? Right here... in her room... ask her to join his crew. She would make a great pirate, she really would. They would get married and sail around the world searching for lost treasures..._

_If only he would come to Port Royal one day..._

_Once again, she fell asleep with the imaginary wind tugging on her hair..._

* * *

"Jack!!!" Elizabeth's voice was hoarse from screaming, moonlight that illuminated Jack's face sending a flash of memories across her mind, and she half-consciously recalled all those nights filled with childhood dreams, with wishes for him to come to visit her; and the painful irony of him finally being in her house now made her heart clench.

Jack's eyelids stilled, and Elizabeth screamed again, her voice breaking, her scream coming out so hollow that it was almost inaudible.

* * *

It was all fading away so rapidly... her face... her voice... He was vaguely aware of her hair brushing against his face... it was really the only piece of reality that he could focus on, fancy that. Maybe it was because her closeness always remained for him a source of wonder, as if it was only half-probable, only temporarily possible that he had her near... that she was with him... willing to stay... bound by law-

He wanted to smile, but started to cough instead. An unpleasantly sweet, metallic taste filled his mouth and he grimaced... or so he thought, he could not really control his facial expressions at the moment, as if suddenly his body was not really his, as if it was beginning to have a life on its own...

A life?...

"Jack!!!"

Ah. He relaxed under the frantic touch of her fingertips... No longer could he keep his eyes open, but he could almost, _almost _see her face nonetheless, even though it was fading, so strangely fading away... But it was her touch, he did not need to look to know; and her scent, the closer she was leaning down, the more intense it got. Oranges and wild flowers... as he once thought... her scent? No. That was what he had thought about her lips once... before he understood that her lips tasted of nothing, but her – his Lizzie.

"Jack!!!!!"

Lizzie. Lizzie, Lizzie, Lizzie. Lizzie Sparrow. It would have never... it always have... it will, it would, it will... why is the rum... in a pod. Odd, that... He took a shallow breath; for some reason he could not inhale deeply. So odd... when she had found him in the past... he remembered that it had happened, but he remembered it less and less... what had he said to her when they had met? What are ye waiting... Are ye waiting... Waiting for somebody, luv? He could not remember... it was all... blended... unclear... all his memories were becoming blurred, as if somebody was pouring buckets of water over the pages of a book, causing the ink to flow down the paper, washing away the words, washing away... everything.

"Jack, please, Jack, look at me!!!"

Perhaps he should think about something else... aye... her hands on his face... he could feel them... but there was something else to think about as well... he was... he had got... shot, had he not?... _I'm dying_, he thought with a hint of surprise enclosed in the realization. It was so simple and yet so bizarre... He was dying. He was... dying?... He was dying... right now.

* * *

His name on her lips and his blood on her hands, the world spinning around them, sparkles of silent chaos breaking through her thoughts, but all the sounds were hollow, words she did not understand, words she would not know... even if she could listen to anything else but his heartbeat, his every breath brushing against her face like summer wind, his eyes closed, his hand awkwardly clenched around a few locks of her hair, as if he was trying not to drown, holding onto her with his diminishing strength.

"Jack. Jack!..." Elizabeth choked on the words, all the words except for his name beginning to lose any sense, and so she cradled him in her arms, on her lap, chanting his name in a cracking voice, cupping his face with one hand, her fingertips running all over his face, trying to hold his attention, keep his eyes open, while using her other hand to stop the flow of blood, pressing the only piece of cloth she had with her – her wedding dress – to his bleeding chest.

Half-consciously she thought that perhaps it was a wretched idea to have it torn... Maybe it had brought bad luck over them? Maybe the dress should not have been red? Maybe she should not have left Will without a word of explanation... maybe she should not have accepted James' proposal knowing that she would not have married him... maybe she should not have taken Will's medallion... maybe she should not have read so many stories about Jack...

Thoughts were running through her head as swiftly as his blood was flowing through her fingers. Everybody stood frozen to the spot, even the soldiers began to look distressed, not by the unsurprising fact that Mercer had suddenly fired and shot Jack Sparrow, but because of the heart-wrenching despair and screams of the girl cradling the pirate in her arms.

Beckett looked at the scene, quickly overcoming his annoyance at Mercer's insubordinate behaviour. _He was reaching for his pistol, Sir. _Somehow Mercer's hushed explanation did not seem valid. He himself had not noticed anything like that, but then again who could have known for sure? Having the choice of his death and Jack Sparrow's death, the answer was obvious.

Yet of course it was not how he had planned it to work. He was so pale... so much blood... there was no way he could survive, so that was it, then. He would not have the pleasure of hanging him, of savoring his defeat. Although death was the greatest defeat, was it not? And he would still have other people left, people who deserved to suffer for their wrongdoings against him. The Governor, for example. And he still would have the girl, it was almost as if he had Sparrow.

It was strange, that connection between them, as if they were one person, Beckett thought blankly. _Maybe she will die from sadness. _He smiled to himself sardonically, clasping his hands behind his back, and deciding that the scene was actually quite amusing to watch. Jack Sparrow's blood staining the beautiful carpet in the ruined Governor's mansion, his sobbing wife kneeling beside him and trying to stop the flow of his red blood with a red rag.

A pair of colorless eyes watched with ardent intensity a small, victorious smile flicker across Beckett's lips.

* * *

She would understand...

He knew she would understand. She would understand each lonely hour, she would understand when there were too many words and when no words came; she would see the colors of the clouds and she would not laugh; she would make him smile; she was making him smile, even now.

His steps were silent, like his thoughts, sacred like this moment of understanding, like the bright realization that made all the shadows go away...

Love.

So that was love, then. Yes, he should have known, he had seen it. He should have guessed that already on that deserted island when she had agreed to spend twenty years in the Maelstrom of Time for that man; and later... he should have guessed that again when that manhad come to rescue her from there...

He squeezed the silver pistol in his hand trying to keep his hand from trembling, blinking quickly to clear his suddenly blurred vision.

_Elizabeth... _

For the first time he felt like he really had a right to say her name out loud; proudly, clearly:

"Elizabeth..."

She looked up, abruptly, and her tear-stained face caused his heart to clench. She saw him, and a small smile ghosted across his face at the realization that she could still see him... he vaguely thought that she could have _always _see him, but he had no time to ponder the beautiful thought. Maybe it was his own doing... or maybe there was a shadow of something more to it... He smiled sadly. "Elizabeth..."

Her eyes widened suddenly, and so did his own at the sudden look of absolute horror on her face. She paled rapidly, and shook her head, numbly at first, and then more decidedly, struggling to pull the man in her lap further into her arms, leaning over him, cupping his cheek with her hand, snuggling his face into her chest, and mouthing what he quickly recognized as "no" over and over again.

She was shaking, and when he caught her glancing at the silver pistol he suddenly understood what she was thinking...

"Oh God," Elizabeth moaned in a cracking voice, embracing Jack as tightly as she could, shielding his body with hers. He was not moving, his eyes were closed, and his heartbeat was growing quieter with every second, his breathing so weak on her cheek... "Jack, please," she looked at him, brushing her thumb over his pale lips. "Jack, open your eyes, please... don't... Jack!..." She coughed, swallowing her tears, and shaking her head, leaning down, and kissing his face which after a moment tasted only of her own tears.

"Elizabeth..." the herald stepped closer, his heart breaking with every step he took. He did not know how could he have ever considered those moments of death natural... how could he have not felt anything while taking the lives away?...

"No!!!" Elizabeth screamed, sobbing and shaking uncontrollably, holding Jack as close as possible, looking at him and crying, her tears on his face giving an impression as if he himself was crying.

The Governor stood motionlessly, staring at scene in dismay, wishing there was something he could do... And he did not even think about dragging Elizabeth away, even though she was sitting in a pool of blood right now... But she kept her arms wrapped around Jack's pale form so tightly that the Governor had no doubt that she would not let him or anybody else take her away from her husband, even if they would try... even if there was no chance... From where he stood the Governor could not tell if Jack's breath was so shallow or... or if he had already stopped breathing...

But he was afraid to move, as if a gesture could take away the remnants of life hovering over the man. He could not imagine what would happen next, how his daughter would live... He remembered her smiling face and felt his heart break from anger and helplessness. Out of his eye he saw that everybody else stood as motionlessly, looking at the scene with disbelief. Only Beckett's face seemed unimpressed, his eyes regarding Elizabeth with Jack in her arms with cool, malicious interest.

"Jack," Elizabeth whispered in a gentle, quivering voice, stroking his face and his dreadlocks with her trembling hand. "Look at me, please, I need you... to look at me, Jack," her voice broke, and she pressed her lips to his. "Please don't leave me, Jack, I love you, please, Jack..." she whispered, kissing his face and shaking from crying.

The herald smiled faintly. He should not smile at a moment like this... but she looked so beautiful, so celestial... her hair falling over her shoulders like straps of gold, her lips looking so soft...

He closed his eyes, slowly raising his hand...

Elizabeth caught the movement out of the corner of her eye and screamed.

Everybody else looked at her with dismay. Ameerah clenched her teeth thinking that she must have gone crazy. And she could not blame her... even though in that exact moment she understood that it was really not love what she herself felt... still, her heart was breaking, and she surreptitiously moved her hand to the hilt of her sword, observing Beckett on the verge of her vision, standing there with a stony face, a faint grimace of satisfaction lifting up the corners of his mouth. His amusement, as blankly expressed as it was, was evident on his face and it disgusted her. If there was anybody who deserved to die...

"Elizabeth..."

Elizabeth looked up at the herald, trying to turn her desperate expression into a hateful frown. But after a moment she gave up, tears rolling down her cheeks as she began to whisper half-intelligibly, begging him to leave them alone, to go away. She rocked Jack in her arms, pressing her face to his, crying and moaning.

The herald lifted his hand, his finger resting on the trigger.

He had never felt happier in his life.

"Elizabeth... I... love you," he said, and when she looked at him she saw that he smiled, a strangely feverish smile accompanied by even strangest streams of tears rolling down his cheeks.

She felt a hint of confusion at the sight, but then he pulled the trigger and she screamed, leaning over Jack and covering him almost completely with her body. "No!!!" She closed her eyes and buried her face into his dreadlocks, desperately trying to shield him the best she could. Maybe if the silver dust would not fall over him... maybe then he would not- If only she could shield him well enough, maybe then... She shuddered, bursting into more tears, hugging Jack tightly, and whispering all the beautiful words she could think of into his ear...

But then she had a strange impression that... his breathing deepened.

A loud thud and a choir of surprised voices startled her, and she cautiously drew back, if only a little, quickly opening her eyes.

The air was clear. No silver dust was falling over them.

"What's happened?"

She heard somebody ask, and automatically glanced over her shoulder...

Beckett lay on the floor clutching his chest with his hands, a look of shock and dismay written on his face...

Elizabeth gasped, her eyes widening in astonishment.

Sparkling, silver dust was slowly falling over Beckett's body, his face contorted in pain.

Elizabeth looked back at Jack noticing his eyelids to move slightly.

So it was not Jack's time to die, she thought, feeling her heart bit faster from sudden hope, a feeling of incredible relief washing over her and almost making her smile. Was it possible? "Jack..." she whispered brokenly, placing her hand on his cheek.

"Elizabeth..."

She stiffened, knowing that the voice was not Jack's. She looked up with fresh apprehension, her eyes meeting the herald's colorless gaze. He was kneeling right beside her, silver pistol still clutched in his hand, almost unconsciously.

"It wasn't Jack's time to die," she said defensively, fighting back the tears, knowing that words could not stop anything from happening, but saying those words nonetheless. She tightened her embrace around Jack protectively, her exhausted mind losing track of what was happening, muffled voices of soldiers deliberating what had happened to Lord Beckett humming in the background...

The herald smiled at her, and it both astonished and terrified her how... ordinary his smile was, as if everything that had happened was not true, as if he had never taken anybody's life away, as if he had never made her do it... as if he had not done anything wrong... ever...

She froze petrified with fear when she suddenly noticed that he was leaning closer. It flashed across her mind that maybe he was going to make another deal with her, tell her that Jack could survive if she-

She stared at him, too stunned and too confused to move, just watching his face when he inched his lips closer to hers, and looked at her lips, but then drew back without kissing her. Slowly, he raised his hand and brushed a lock of her hair behind her ear.

"It was," he said quietly, taking his hand away, and smiling at her again, but now she could clearly see tears glittering in his colorless eyes, and making...

and making his eyes look silver – the most beautiful shade of silver that she had ever seen.

"_If I was to kill somebody regardless of their destiny..."_

For a brief second she could almost feel the scent of snow at that very moment when he had told her that...

He stood up and only then the meaning of his words suddenly reached her...

It _was _Jack's time to die.

She opened her mouth to speak, but the words froze on her lips when right in front of her eyes, in the moment so short she was not sure it lasted for any amount of time at all, the herald's body burst into thousands of infinitely small, glimmering rainbow pieces.

Elizabeth gazed at the stunningly colorful dust swirl around and disappear before falling onto the ground, and after a few seconds there was nothing left, not even one rainbow flake that would indicate that he had ever been there.

Behind her, she heard one of the soldiers stating with a sigh that Lord Beckett was dead... A heart attack, most likely.

She winced and gasped, looking back at Jack and cradling his face in her hands.

Jack's eyes fluttered open and she smiled at him weakly through her tears.

Ameerah shook off the numbness of the moment as first, and drawing out her sword, leaped on Mercer. Having noticed that, Gibbs pulled out his pistol, his cry drowning in the noise of many other voices that suddenly filled the room, the crew of the _Pearl_ running into the house through broken windows, glass crunching under their boots, soon joined by the deafening sounds of clinging metal.

* * *

The sea churned up so quickly that it caught most of the crews off guard. East India Trading Company ships, left with orders to wait for the _Endeavor_ to return, looked anxiously at the sky and at the dark ocean, deliberating what to do. It was neither safe, nor possible to stay still if the weather turned very severe.

Pirate ships had less problems with making their decisions, and soon the ships dispersed into the sable mist, leaving the EITC soldiers alone with the storm.

And perhaps they would even brave the storm and followed the orders, if it was not for one ship that suddenly appeared on the dark, raging surface under the starless sky, looking as dreadful as the legend that surrounded it.

* * *

He could not understand why he had ever feared death. There was hardly anything to complain about: he was warm and comfortable, and the pillows he had on the _Pearl_ could not even compare to those... here, whatever here was.

He knitted his eyebrows without opening his eyes. Was it possible that...?... Well, it was not probable, but it was definitely possible. After all, he was Captain Jack Sparrow. They could surely make an exception for him in heaven, even if his balance of sins and good deeds was not... ordinary.

With a sigh, he opened one eye, then the other one, for a moment watching several shadows dance across the ceiling. Out of the corner of his eyes he noticed oil lamps sitting on the small tables on either side of the bed. He felt very tired and very heavy, a faint memory causing him to lift his hand and place it on his chest. He could feel the bandage under his fingertips, and when he lifted his other hand...

"Jack!" Elizabeth woke up feeling Jack's movement beside her, propping herself on an elbow and leaning over him, tucking her disarrayed hair behind her ear, and cradling his face in her hands

Jack looked up at her; she was still wearing his coat, and her face was still stained with tears although she was not crying anymore. Quickly, he reached out, pulling her into a kiss to make sure that she was real.

And she was real.

"This isn't a dream," he muttered against her mouth, smiling and outlining her lips with feathery-light kisses.

"How come?" Elizabeth drew back putting on a mockingly hurt facial expression.

Jack laughed under his breath, stroking her cheeks with his thumbs. "I thought you a dream for so long, Lizzie. Enough of that," he whispered in a quiet, serious voice. "I thought you a dream so many times..."

"And a couple of times a nightmare, I'm sure," cut in Elizabeth with a small pout, leaning into his hand, and kissing his palm.

Jack's fingers slid into her hair, making her look at him. "Not once," he said firmly.

Elizabeth smiled, resting her forehead against his. "One more lie and I won't give you your coat back," she said with a playfully stern look, trying to overcome the overpowering exhaustion that she felt after all that had happened.

Jack kissed her, and smiled at her mischievously. "And what do I have to say, luv, to make you give me back my coat _right now_?" he asked, narrowing his eyes at her, and slipping his fingers underneath the coat's collar.

Elizabeth looked at him for a moment in silence, gave him a faint smile, and snuggled her face into his neck, draping her hand across his chest. Wordlessly, he wrapped his arm around her, placing his other hand on her head, and slowly stroking her hair.

"The crew took over the house," said Elizabeth quietly.

Jack sighed. "Our crew," he corrected.

Elizabeth smiled, and kissed his shoulder. "But in the morning our presence will become noticeable. I think we should leave Port Royal as soon as possible. And never come back," she added after a pause, biting her lip.

Jack turned his head, glancing around the dimly lit space. "This is your room," he said with a small smile.

"It was my room." Elizabeth lifted her head, propping her chin on his chest, and looking up at him. "I dreamed about you in this very room and now you really are here," she said softly, running her fingertips across his cheek.

"Me mum always said dreams did come true," said Jack with a smile, but then his smile faded. "Lizzie..."

"Captain Fiero," she started, saying the name not without difficulty, "has the heart, but she didn't stab it yet," she looked away, and then returned her gaze to him. "I told Gibbs to keep an eye on her," she added with a small, coy smile.

Jack grinned. "Do you know that you're my favorite pirate, luv?"

Elizabeth pressed her lips to his. "Flattery is a good strategy, but remember to keep it original," she said, trying to keep her voice serious, but ending up laughing along with him.

"Well," said Jack at last, slowly pushing himself to the upward position. "It's time to see how this story ends," he said, answering Elizabeth's uncertain gaze. "And..." he started after a pause, wrinkling his forehead, and glancing at his bandaged chest.

"Beckett is dead," said Elizabeth flatly, and his eyes darted to her, not because of what she had said, but because of the tone of her voice.

"Lizzie," he took her face in his hands, and looked deeply into her eyes. "What did he do to you?"

Elizabeth covered his hands with hers, and shook her head. "Nothing. I mean... He just scared me a bit, I think..."

"Lizzie."

Elizabeth rolled her eyes. "Do we have to talk about it now? Tomorrow the three days will be over. We have just several hours to-"

Jack slid off the bed, and pulled Elizabeth to her feet. "Elizabeth Sparrow, I demand-", he growled, but Elizabeth cut him off:

"Captain!" Jack blinked, and Elizabeth laughed, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. "It's Captain Elizabeth Sparrow, that's one thing. And the other is, that we have more important matters to take care of at the moment than commemorating Cutler Beckett," she turned around, taking a shirt that was thrown across a chair, and handing it to Jack. "It's my father's," she said, helping him to pull it over his head.

"I don't want to commem-" started Jack with a hint of irritation in his voice, sensing that there was something to tell, and that Elizabeth was purposefully evading the subject; but then he trailed off, furrowing his brows.

"He is dead," Elizabeth said firmly, straightening his shirt, her facial expression turning thoughtful.

Jack propped her chin with his hand, and looked at her intently. "Lizzie?" he asked cautiously.

"He killed him," said Elizabeth in a hollow voice.

"Who?" Jack wrinkled his forehead in slight confusion.

Elizabeth bit her lip. "He took his life away... he... he took his life away instead of yours," she finished in a barely audible voice, forcing a small smile. "He is gone," she added quietly after a pause looking away with a grimace. "I was so scared that I'd lose you," she said, all o a sudden bursting into tears, and wrapping her arms around Jack's neck, and preventing him from asking for some clarification. Perhaps she was right, and it was really not the best time for explanations.

He embraced her tightly, burying his face in the crook of her neck, not really knowing what to say. Everything was so fragile that reassuring words began to sound almost trivial. Especially with the still unresolved problem of Jones' heart... If Ameerah would not stab the heart, after all, the only choice he would have was stabbing it himself, or not doing anything at all and submit himself to Chronos and his fate...

"Lizzie..."

"Do you think she will really stab the heart?" Elizabeth looked up at him, clenching her hands around his shoulders.

Jack looked at her thoughtfully, twirling a lock of her hair around his finger. "I think it'd be best if we went out to find out." Elizabeth chewed on her bottom lip for a moment, and he leaned his forehead against hers, looking at her questioningly. "Anything else on your mind, luv?"

"She said you kissed her," she replied almost before he had asked the question.

Jack drew back, widening his eyes at her. "When?" he asked, blinking, and from the look in Elizabeth's eyes he could tell that it was not how she had hoped he would have answered her question.

"She wanted to stay here until you woke up," said Elizabeth with an annoyed huff. "So I told her to go away, and then she told me that you kissed her, and that I was lucky that the two of you had so little time before you reached Port Royal." Jack snorted and rolled his eyes. "Did you kiss her?" asked Elizabeth in a blank, serious voice, and to his surprise he heard sincere trepidation in her voice.

"Lizzie-"

"Did you kiss her, Jack," she said, any traces of smiles gone from her face. "It's a simple yes or no question."

"It's not really that simple," observed Jack cautiously. I just-"

"Jack," Elizabeth interrupted him, stepping out of his embrace "Did you kiss her?" she asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Lizzie. I-"

"Yes _or _no!" she childishly stomped her foot, and he could not hold back a smile. "I don't think this is funny," she said with a small pout.

"Yes, it is," said Jack, narrowing his eyes in an impish smile. "And yes, I did kiss her."

Elizabeth's hands fell limply down her sides, and she paled, staring at him in disbelief. He roughly pulled her into his arms, and cradled her face in his hands. "On the hand," he whispered against her mouth with a roguish smile, and kissed her passionately, wrapping his arms around her.

"Elizabeth-" Gibbs ran into the room without knocking, stopping abruptly in his tracks, causing Jack and Elizabeth to pull apart. "Why do I always have to run into scenes like that?" he asked with an exaggerated sigh, shaking his head in sincere puzzlement. "Unless," he continued quickly, before they managed to say anything. "You're just pretending?" he asked in the most serious voice he could muster, biting back a smile.

"Mr. Gibbs. Your fine mood makes me perilously doubt your ability to properly judge the perilousness of the perilous circumstances we are in," said Jack in a pretendedly stern voice, entwining his fingers with Elizabeth's, and heading for the door.

"Aye," Gibbs rubbed his forehead. "My judgement is one thing. Captain Fiero is the other," he said, stepping back into the corridor.

Elizabeth looked at him anxiously. "She won't stab the heart," she said in a hollow voice.

Gibbs shook his head. "Worse," he said ominously.


	63. Chapter 63

A/N:_**Welcome! At Another Story's End... **_**:)**

This is the last chapter, so - traditionally - we're going to have an excessively long A/N now ^^

1 year & 2 months & 1 week ago I posted the first chapter of this story, and I never imagined that it would be that long! And that it would take so much time to write ^^ As the time went by, the chapters were getting very long, and that's probably one of the reasons... the other being that I just had less time to write in the past few months. (I can hardly believe that when I was writing _Have We Met Before?_, for several months I was updating every other day! Now it seems so surreal ^^)

This is a very strange moment, not only because I always feel strange finishing a long story, but also because I'm not planning on starting another multi-chapter fanfic... The main reason being, sadly, the lack of time. But I'm not disappearing! :) I'll be still visiting the site to read all the wonderful stories here, and maybe writing & posting one-shots every once in a while as well :) I'm also hoping to continue posting my drabbles & graphics on LiveJournal :)

The most important part of this A/N, as always, is the Thank You Note which you traditionally can't see just yet ^^. I wanted to thank all of you for being such wonderful, fantastic, amazing readers! Your feedback kept me let this story write itself :] **Thank you so much! :) This story would not happen without you!** **:]** Thank you for all the amazing reviews- it always amazed me that you were reading & reviewing my stories! I still remember the feeling of absolute shock when I received my two very first reviews for the first chapter of my first story ^^ Since then, every single review always made me smile, cheered me up, made me write, and made me v!e!r!y! happy! :]

I'd like to especially thank those of you who have been following this story from the beginning till the very end. It's been a long journey, and I'm not surprised that many people simply disappeared somewhere along the way ^^ The more amazing it is that so many of you stayed with this story for so long! Thank you so much for this! It's been a great pleasure to get to know you all & write Sparrabeth stories on this site for such a long time :)

_**Thank You Note:**_

In the alphabetical order - I'd like to thank those who reviewed VOUN at least once :)

I'd also like to give many MANY virtual **HUGS** to those who reviewed VOUN more MORE than once ;)

_**I would like to thank v!e!r!y! much:**_

Abeegail, Aenea Endymion, Alice001, Ameli, And MY Hat Enterprises, Arraya, A Sparrow's Freedom, Addicted to Jack, Aleviel, AmandaKSparrow, andrew, andy, Angie, beautiful-mistakez, becca301x, blacklilac, , Black_Rose, BlueRubyJune, Breezy1113, bridgette, brolly501, captain-kat-sparrow, Captain Ichabod Rainey, Captain Lizzie Sparrow, Captain Lola Sparrow, CaptainOats4life, Cassaleena11, Cessations, ChaoticWonderxx, Christine, CJS, Claire M C, crazibookwormi, Cristalake, Crystalyna du Starrvan, Cynxxx, Dagmar, Danielle, DarkAngelXF, Dazzled-Frequently-31242, DCI Panda, Deariee, DebbieSC, Depperanium, DesiringPirates, Ditte3, Dymphna007, earlymorningdove, Ectofralamazoo, Elisa, elyse, em, englishfreckle, Flabagash, florchiponchi, Funkydunkums, Ginabella59, Gmasangel, GryffindorPirate, hArDy-BoYz-GiRl, hotbritt5000, howlongmustiwait, IFallForGoldenEyes, It's..thing, Jack Sparrow's my man, Jack. Sparrow. 1245, JessSwann, jetamine, Joker'., JustAnotherCrazyWriter, kate, KayleeG, kcpiratey05, Kelly Cullen, kerrde06, Kitten4, Lakritzwolf, leona, Lily Evanstar, lina, linalove, Lobsters forever, lola, LostinmyIntellectualThicket, Lutherian, maidenfairhair, Maira Blue, marionoz, Marzi, Mclean M.D., Meghan, Megmo, Melissa, Mirabelle456, Miss Pirate Queenie, Miss-Hermione-Granger91, MissMandi, Morleigh, Mrs. Sparrow :), , mrspatrickdempsey, MidnightDreamer1988, Mishelle23, missrisa77, Myukie-Hitomi, Nancy, nArCiSsTiC wOnDeR, Natalie-07, niatm, oceanwaters2006, Ollie, orpsgod, ParrotPie, Pauliz, Perfect Pirate Captain, Persephone, PirateGirl07, PiratePrincess29, PiratesLass01, piratespleasure, Piratess of the East Coast, POTC Gal, primadonna001, Psilome, Puff161, Queen Dork meets King Dork, QueenOfSparrabeth, Rachel452, RaidersEcho, Roxydesigns, sarah, Sassy Sparrow, seriouslyjess, Sleepy Lotus, shan21, Shinigami-Wolf, Sophies-Welt, SPARRABETH!!!!, sparrabethforever, Sparrow Love7, SparrowsFlight, SparrowsStride, sweetangel1619, tarantinostyle, teepirategirl, The-Pirate-Lass, TheCloudEater, thelastpirate, thunder sister, Tiffany, tinkerbell3708, tjbaby, TrueBlueDreamer, unfathomable love, unknown person lol, Vanny, Verity Strange, Welshbabe88, Wicked R, Willofthewisp, xLovePoisonedHeartx (aka CaptainESavvy), xxCaseyFlemingxx, XxIcexX, xxJE4everxx

_ETA: I'm sorry if some of your pen names above are spelled wrong. I tried to correct the mistakes many times, but for some reason the site refuses to save the right version:/_

**I will miss you all! :)**

**Maybe one day we will meet again.......**

**...&...**

**Thank you so much for following all of my stories in the last 21 months! :)**

Disclaimer: Disney owns PotC. I own my hectic storyline, silver medallion (don't even try to pretend that you remember it! lol), the black glass globe, Chronos (except for his name, of course ^^), Maelstrom of Time, the legend of Death's brides, Victor (you'll find out in this chapter who he is ;), Elizabeth's red wedding dress, the silver pistol & silver dust (Yes, I'm just trying to make this list long lol), Ameerah, &... what will appear in the epilogue, so I can't reveal it just yet! :)

And now... onto the last chapter! :) (But don't forget that there will also be **the epilogue** labeled as **Chapter 64**! :)

**Chapter 63**

Jack wrinkled his forehead. "Care to elaborate?" he asked impatiently when Gibbs did not seem too eager to continue.

"Well," Gibbs cleared his throat. "She actually... did stab the heart," said Gibbs tentatively.

Jack and Elizabeth widened their eyes at him. "And?" they asked in unison.

"And..." Gibbs shrugged his shoulders, not really knowing what to say..."And nothing happened," he said at last with a sigh.

* * *

Ameerah was sitting on a stool, staring at the heart and at her knife stuck in the still beating piece of flesh.

It was such a perfect plan. She would have gotten both: revenge and immortality. Such a fine plan, and she was so close. How was it that it had not worked? It should have worked! There was no reason for it not to work.

Governor Swann watched the girl from the side of the room, waiting for Gibbs to return with Elizabeth and the news how Jack was feeling. He walked toward one of the walls, and then walked back, deciding to sit down, but then the door opened, and Gibbs, followed by Jack and Elizabeth walked inside.

Ameerah jumped up, placing her hands on her hips. "I have no idea what is going on," she said irritatedly, without waiting for any questions.

Elizabeth gave her father a small smile, squeezing Jack's hand, and wordlessly telling him that he was alright. The Governor nodded, returning her smile, and took a few steps toward them.

"You stabbed the heart," said Jack cautiously, looking between the heart and Ameerah.

She sighed and rolled her eyes. "Aye," she hissed through gritted teeth, glancing with an inward snort at Jack and Elizabeth's hands interlaced together. "And I really don't know why-" she started angrily, but then she trailed off when, all of a sudden, the room turned completely dark.

"Elizabeth?" Governor Swann's anxious voice reverberated in the darkness before the light returned, but this time it was not the faint light emitted by oil lamps, but a blinding light that smelled of the sea, bright as old legends.

"Ye can't stab yer own heart. Dat's why it didn't work."

Jack's eyes slowly shifted to the source of the voice that sounded both angry and concerned. Tia Dalma's eyes shifted to Jack as well.

"I believe I still have a few more hours to deliver the heart," he said quickly with the most charming artificial smile he could muster.

Elizabeth laced her arm through his, determined to hold on to him no matter what. If he was going to be taken away by anybody, by any force, by Calypso, Chronos, anything; she was going to go with him, she was going to follow him anywhere, everywhere.

"Oh, I see. The great Calypso discovered in her sea-deep heart unknown depths of compassion," said Ameerah in a cool, sardonic voice, and everybody's eyes turned to her.

Jack was about to helpfully whisper to her that angering Calypso was not a good idea, but then he suddenly remembered the goddess' quizzical words that had followed her appearance...

"Ye can't stab yer own heart," repeated Calypso, while Governor Swann anxiously looked around, hoping that it was only his imagination that was making it look as if his house suddenly disappeared, and they were now all standing in the sea-green, bluish mist on invisible ground and hearing the crashing of the waves all around them.

"This is not my heart!" Ameerah almost shouted in an annoyed tone of voice.

Calypso tilted her head to the side, looking at her with an ironic, but surprisingly warm nonetheless, look in her eyes. "This heart is a part of yer heart, whether ye like it or not, child," she said softly, moving closer to Ameerah.

"I told her not to stab it," cut in Jack with a complacent smile, not really knowing what was going on, but thinking it advisable to put himself in the most favorable light possible.

Elizabeth lightly poked Jack with her elbow, and he shot her a hurt look. Calypso glanced at them, but then shifted her eyes back to Ameerah.

"What did ye think ye'd achieve by doin' dat?" asked Calypso, stopping in front of the girl, and reaching out to brush her hair behind her ear, and to Jack's stupefaction he noticed a single tear roll down Ameerah's cheek.

"He deserves to die! He deserves to... be _gone_," she whispered, clenching her fists, her eyes fixed on goddess' face, while Jack's eyes began to widen at a sudden, incredulous suspicion...

"No," Calypso shook her head, and gave Ameerah a mysterious smile. "I love him with all my heart and he... loves me," she said gently, slowly placing her hand on Ameerah's knife, and cautiously pulling it out of Davy Jones' heart.

"He hurt you!" Ameerah almost shouted, staring at Calypso incredulously. "He trapped you, destroyed you, betrayed you-"

She trailed off when Calypso cradled her face in her hands, and smiled at her. "It wasn't like that. It was all..." she looked upwards, blinking back the tears, and Ameerah watched the emotions passing through her face in wonderment. "It was all a misleading bad dream and now it's in the past. Don't ye want to meet him?" she added in a low voice.

Ameerah pursed her lips, turning her face in annoyance, but Calypso made her look into her eyes again, and after a moment tears glistened in the eyes of both of them, causing Jack, Elizabeth, Gibbs and Governor Swann to exchange uncertain looks.

Jack fluttered his fingers in the air, waiting for an opportune moment to interrupt, finally speaking up, despite Elizabeth's wordless protests. "If I may..." Ameerah and Calypso looked at him as if he just appeared out of the blue. "Is anybody going to stab the thump-thump?" he asked cautiously, pointing to the heart with his finger. Calypso narrowed her eyes at him. "I'm just worried," explained Jack with an artificial smile, sincerely worried about his upcoming encounter with Chronos, as it was, apparently, what awaited him next.

"Ye were supposed deliver the heart to me," said Calypso, turning toward him.

Elizabeth tightened her hold of Jack's arm.

Jack winced slightly, not too pleased with the turn that the conversation was taking. "I was-" he started, but Calypso cut him off.

"And instead ye let my daughter stab it," she said, tilting her head to the side.

Elizabeth blinked, while Gibbs' eyes widened almost to the point of no return.

_Bugger_, thought Jack, trying to keep a smile on his face. "Your daughter," he echoed, looking at Ameerah, who seemed rather amused by the astonished look on his face. "I barely even know her," he said joyfully, and Ameerah raised her eyebrows, biting her lip to keep from laughing. "Right?" added Jack quietly, glancing at Ameerah hopefully, and she held his gaze for a moment, before looking at her mother.

"Oh yes," she said, trying to keep a straight face. "We've just met with... Mr. Sparrow-"

"Captain," cut in Jack in an almost apologetic tone. Elizabeth closed her eyes with a sigh.

"With Captain Sparrow," Ameerah corrected herself, shooting him another amused look, "on our way here."

Calypso shifted her eyes from Ameerah to Jack, and then back to Ameerah, but did not say anything, and just reached for Davy Jones' heart.

Jack winced again.

"What are you going to do with this?" asked Elizabeth carefully, watching the goddess hold the heart with utmost care.

Calypso smiled at her. "I will give it back to him, help him get used to hearing him own heartbeat again..." she said slowly, her voice growing quiet. Her dark eyes fluttered back to the heart. "He will be whom he was before. And the Locker will be restored as what it once was, what it should always be." She met Elizabeth's questioning look and smiled enigmatically. "Not a place of torment, but a place where souls were waiting to enter either life or death."

"If I may intrude with a humble question..." Jack half-raised his hand, giving Elizabeth a small pout in return for her warning look. "Does it all mean, that the Captain of the _Flying Dutchman_ will remain... unchanged?" finished Jack uncertainly, and Elizabeth recalled their conversation with the god of time who had wished for them to find a _good_ new captain... and she wondered if Calypso could really guarantee such a change of heart and behaviour as far as Davy Jones was concerned...

But Calypso's answer dismissed the dilemma. "No," she said slowly, smiling knowingly, and walking closer to Jack. "He'll no longer be bound to that ship. As soon as I'll give him back his heart, he'll be free."

Jack opened his mouth to ask another question, but Elizabeth's hand lacing through his arm rather forcefully rendered him silent.

Governor Swann, although observing the entire scene with a sense of dread, smiled faintly at the gesture. Sometimes Jack and Elizabeth appeared to him like those fantastic characters from fairy tales, with all the magic clinging to them; at other times, when they argued, they seemed almost too real, and there was something so exquisitely natural about their arguments that were filled with love so clearly, that he was always astounded by that apparent paradox. He was stunned by the casualness... maturity? of their relationship that went hand in hand with passion and spontaneity. They seemed to understand each other without words – accept, embrace one another fully and without hesitation.

He smiled, thinking how natural and simultaneously how out of place they would look participating in one of London's winter balls... He could not recall ever having seen such a loving married couple there...

"I'll name a new Captain of the _Flying Dutchman_," said Calypso, looking at Davy Jones' heart again.

Jack's and Elizabeth's hearts skipped a bit.

"Please, no!" Elizabeth blurted out without thinking, and Calypso's mouth twitched in a small smile.

Jack looked between Elizabeth and Calypso hesitantly, his eyes widening in sudden suspicion. "No!" he started, pulling Elizabeth possessively toward him. She glanced up at him in confusion.

Calypso laughed. "I'm afraid you two will have to share your precious _Pearl_ with each other. The _Flying Dutchman_'s new captain won't be another fool prone to love. I learned my lesson well," she added, before Jack managed to protest at the implication.

"I'm sure you've chosen the new captain wisely," observed Elizabeth diplomatically with a small smile.

The corners of Jack's mouth began to turn upwards in amusement, but his smile as quickly vanished from his face as it had appeared there.

"Him?" whispered Jack in a high-pitched voice with utter disbelief.

Elizabeth looked at him questioningly, but then followed his gaze, her eyes widening at the sight of Barbossa appearing out of the mist that was encompassing them all.

"I highly doubt he is what our Time friend would consider a good captain," Jack whispered into Elizabeth's ear with a twitch of his nose.

"Well, at least now he'll leave the _Pearl_ alone," Elizabeth whispered back, and Jack narrowed his eyes at Barbossa, pondering her words for a moment.

"This _is_ a valid point, luv," he said under his breath after a pause, and Elizabeth bit back a smile. "Is he dead?" asked Jack matter-of-factly in a louder voice, pointing with his finger to Barbossa.

"I hope ye won't despair over that for too long," said Barbossa with a sour half-smile, squinting.

Jack waited a few seconds before answering. "I just finished," he announced cheerfully.

* * *

_Victor! Victor!_

It sounded almost like his mother's voice... maybe it even was her voice... he was not sure what it was... and if it was a voice at all... it was stunning enough that he could hear anything at all.

Shouldn't he hear only silence now?...

"Time has no end, but everything has its time to occur, and it's high time for you to wake up."

He opened his eyes. The voice was familiar, and yet he could not recognize it right away.

And there was light... almost too much light, and he had never imagined such a possibility before.

"That was rather impressing."

He sat upright, turning toward where he felt the voice was coming from. His eyes met the calm gaze of the god of time, and he started.

"No, not again, I don't want to!" he looked around in confusion.

Chronos smiled. "There is no such a thing as _again_. Everything that happens, happens always for the first time – and happens only once."

Slowly, Victor staggered to his feet. "Did I... dream it all?" he asked in a low voice, putting a hand to his forehead.

"No," Chronos shook his head. "You dreamt... most of it," he added seriously, but then smiled at the dismayed look on his herald's face. "If we assume that we all live in our own dream, in a way..." he took a step back and turned around.

"I don't want to be Death anymore," Victor whispered gloomily, looking away.

"Yes, you made it quite clear," said Chronos with such an amount of amusement in his voice that Victor found it decidedly unsettling. "You took away a life, against the destiny," he said, his expression suddenly turning solemn.

The herald straightened up. "I did the right thing," he said firmly, still glancing around with uncertainty. The room looked familiar, and yet not quite...

"Right?" Chronos raised an eyebrow. "According to whom? To you, I imagine?"

"No," Victor shook his head, narrowing his eyes. "Just... the right thing," he said in a low, tired voice.

Chronos smiled again. "It takes lots of pain to start recognizing what is right... in what seems to be wrong," he said, squinting. "Doesn't it?"

Victor looked at him in silence, a bit confused by Chronos' changing attitude. "Why am I still here?" he asked cautiously after a pause.

Chronos shook his head again, chuckling under his breath. "Nobody can ever learn this one simple truth, no matter how many times they come across it," he said more to himself, than to anybody else, and then added in a louder voice. "Nothing ever disappears, nothing ever really dies in this world," he took a step toward Victor. "You passed the test, and quickly too," he smiled. "There is a new road for you to follow, Victor."

Victor blinked startled by the sound of his name. It sounded so strange, so distant... and he suddenly realized how much he had missed it. "I did many cruel things," he said quietly, clenching his jaw at the memory of those several Death's brides whose lives had intertwined with his existence in the past.

"Everyone who deserves it, is given time to atone," said Chronos seriously, and then another smile flitted across his face. "You should've guessed by now that Time is neither the only nor the stronger of gods," he said glancing upwards, and Victor followed his gaze, blinding light from above catching him off guard.

* * *

"You should rest!"

"I feel _fabulous_!"

"No, you don't."

"Yes, I do."

"No, you don't," Elizabeth pushed Jack onto the bed in her room.

"Oi," Jack closed his eyes and twitched his nose.

Elizabeth laughed, jumped onto the bed and scooped closer to him. "You could rest, and in the meantime I could choose what I'd like to take with me from here," she said, leaning down, and kissing him quickly on the lips.

He sneaked his arms around her and immediately pulled her into another kiss.

"Or we could make your childhood dreams come true," said Jack breathlessly, breaking the kiss, and wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

Elizabeth shook her head, amazed by his ability not to lose his sense of humor in such circumstances, after all that had just happened. "What dreams?" asked Elizabeth innocently, widening her eyes at him.

"Me," said Jack with a mischievous smile, sliding his fingers into her hair. "You. Us. Here. In your bed. Right now," he tried to kiss her again, but Elizabeth shook her head vigorously.

"No, no, you misunderstood me," she said with a sigh, trying to keep a serious expression on her face. "I wanted you to come, so we could get married and sail around the world. There was no bed involved."

"How come?" asked Jack, blinking.

"I was twelve years old. My idea of marriage consisted solely of kisses," said Elizabeth with a chuckle, positioning herself on top of him, and placing her elbows on either side of his head, kissing his lips repeatedly.

"Would've been a shame, really," murmured Jack, smirking. "Wouldn't it?"

"Well, it depends," whispered Elizabeth pressing her lips to his forehead and dragging them across it.

"On?" Jack arched an eyebrow, closing his eyes.

"On how good at kissing one is," whispered Elizabeth into his ear, sliding her hands over his arms, and slowly kissing the side of his face.

She felt so impossibly tired, and yet with each kiss she felt stronger; each kiss leaving her with the warmth of his skin lingering on her lips, making her feel so wonderfully alive.

"I shall make sure you'll get _very _good at that, luv," said Jack with a slow, roguish smile, sifting his fingers through her hair, his other hand sliding down her back.

Elizabeth giggled. "What I was trying to suggest was that I _am _very good at it already," she said with a small pout.

"Ah, well. Practice makes-"

Elizabeth hissed when his hand slid to her forearm, tugging her closer. Jack loosened his grip, shifting his eyes between her face and her arm, and before she had time to protest, he pulled the coat off her shoulders, slid it down her arms until he saw the white bandage around her hand. He shot her a stern look, and she did not even try to stop him from tugging the coat off her hands completely.

She was struck by the realization how natural it felt to be looked at by him... and she did not even feel really naked in his presence.

Elizabeth bit her lip, looking at Jack from under her eyelashes, and suddenly the room grew smaller and more humid, and she leaned into him, resting her cheek on his shoulder tiredly, while he deftly unwrapped the cloth covering her forearm.

She pressed her lips to his shoulder when he froze at the sight, his face darkening.

"Lizzie," he whispered through clenched teeth, staring at the brand, his fingers closing around her wrist.

Elizabeth nuzzled his neck with a sigh. "It didn't hurt all that much..." she said quietly, in a reassuring tone.

"I know how much it hurts, Elizabeth," he interjected sharply, his voice strained and low, and she looked up at him, for the first time finding the same comfort, emotion, the same intimacy in him calling her by her formal name, and not by his usual diminutives and endearments. "He should've died by my hand," he said after a pause, and continued before Elizabeth broke in. "I'm so sorry, Lizzie," he said in a quiet voice, looking at her concernedly, almost desperately, and closing her in such a tight embrace that she lost her breath for a moment, the feeling of his shirt touching against her bare skin so soothing that she smiled despite the grim memory that flashed through her mind.

He held her for a long time, and she surprised herself but not even thinking about trying to break free. She wanted to assure him once again that she was alright, but for some reason she did not say anything, only relaxed in his embrace and closed her eyes, letting him hug her and stroke her hair, all the while whispering her name like nobody else would ever whisper.

"Don't be sorry, Jack," she said at last cradling his face in her hands. "It's not your fault, that's one thing. The other is... I am a pirate, after all, am I not?" she asked arching an eyebrow, and brushing her thumbs over his lips.

"You've gone through too many nightmares for me, Lizzie. And I'm not even worth it," he kissed her fiercely, and she broke the kiss, chuckling against his mouth.

"But your kisses are," she said trying to cheer him up and make the bruise of worry that appeared on his forehead disappear. She suddenly saw the first signs of age on his face, shallow wrinkles that she had not seen before, and she felt an overwhelming love for each of them, for each one of his scars, for his every memory, for every breath he took, each thought that had ever crossed his mind...

"Don't try turning it into a jest, Lizzie," he said seriously, rolling her onto her back, and hovering over her, her branded hand still clasped in his, his eyes shifting between her face and the scar. "You can't imagine how sorry I am that this happened," he said in a low voice, and Elizabeth rolled her eyes.

"Are you trying to intimidate me with all these 'I'm sorries'? Point taken, Captain Sparrow. You're better at apologizing than me," she said with an exaggerated sigh, nestling her head deeper into the pillow, and reaching out with her free hand to play with the trinkets in his hair.

He looked at her thoughtfully for a moment before whispering. "I'm not even half as good as you, luv," he said solemnly, and she bit back a smirk, not sure if he was grievously serious and referring to the Maelstrom of Time, or rather semi-jocular alluding to...

She watched him press a gentle, reverent kiss to the P on her hand, and she smiled, tilting her head to the side. "Jack? May I ask you something?" she reached out tracing his bullet holes through his shirt.

He leaned down. "No," he breathed against her neck, gently placing her branded hand on his shoulder, his other hand gliding along her side, stopping on her hip and sliding underneath her. "I need to know that you're really here," he whispered in a husky, breaking voice, heavy with love, lust, and exhaustion, and it seemed almost surreal that all those different emotions could smoulder together, audible in every word he spoke, his hands impatiently charting her skin, warm under his hands, his palms rough, the pads of his fingers deliberate and cautious, drawing every line across her body with certainty that made her head spin and her heart soar.

_No more secrets and mysteries_, she thought with tired joyfulness. She whimpered, and pulled his shirt over his head not without difficulty. She was exhausted, and she felt overpoweringly heavy, each movement she made seemed at the verge of possibility. "I'm so tired," she whispered, slowly raking her fingernails down his back, and burying her face in the crook of his neck.

Jack placed several kisses across Elizabeth's chest, and then nestled his face between her breasts. "Me too," he whispered back after a pause.

There was another brief moment of absolute silence, and then they both snorted and laughed for as long as they had the strength to laugh.

"Why don't we just sleep for a while?" proposed Elizabeth, wrapping her arms around Jack, and shifting slightly, drawing reassurance from the feeling of his bare skin pressed against hers, every inch of his body within the reach of her fingertips.

"I wouldn't marry a woman that would be any less clever," consented Jack, lifting his head, kissing her chin, and then resting his cheek on her chest.

Elizabeth giggled, her eyes closing before she even thought about closing them.

"Isn't marriage exciting?" asked Jack in a sleepy voice, after a moment of them just lying silently in each other's embrace.

"Yo ho," muttered Elizabeth just as drowsily, shifting her leg, over Jack's, and smiling into his dreadlocks. He smiled against her skin, half-asleep already.

She wanted to add the she loved him... but she was already falling asleep, so she decided to tell him that later. There was no reason to hurry. When they would woke up, they would still be here. Together.

Now they had time. Many beautiful days glimmering on the horizon, waiting for them to live them all – to live them all together.

* * *

"I don't think this is a particularly good idea," offered Gibbs with a sheepish smile, when James raised his hand to knock on Elizabeth's room's door, after having arrived, an hour before dawn, from the _Black Pearl_ to see what was going on in the mansion.

Several crew members had come with some strange reports announcing Beckett's death and other odd occurrences, and at last James had decided to come and see for himself. No matter what was happening, it would have been best if they could leave Port Royal before the daylight made their presence seen and consequently known.

He was surprised by that puzzling sense of responsibility that he began to feel, and even more astonished by the fact that he was learning to enjoy it.

"We should leave as soon as possible," said James, squinting at Gibbs, after a moment of consideration dropping his hand, and deciding that probably no pleasant sight awaited him behind that door.

"We can leave right now, as far as I'm concerned," cut in Ameerah, appearing in the corridor. "The faster we leave, the faster we get back to Shipwreck Cove," she added, leaning against the wall, and crossing her arms over her chest.

"I don't think we have a reason to hurry specifically in order to arrive promptly in Shipwreck Cove. The war is unlikely to resume with Cutler Beckett dead. Only he was ill-determined enough to stage such an impossible battle. I'm surprised the King had ever given him a permission to do everything he pleased especially that the majority of his actions was so blatantly driven by personal revenge impulses," he added grimly.

"Speaking of kings..." Ameerah interrupted him with a small smile. "I thought that one of the reasons to hurry could be the fact that from what I know you're a reluctant Pirate King, and therefore perhaps you might be interested in a new voting that-"

"I do appreciate the concern, Captain Fiero" James broke in with a flicker of a smirk passing through his face. "However, it is really less than not necessary." He held her gaze for a moment, and then walked away, deciding that finding the Governor might be the least stressful course of action at the moment.

Ameerah pursed her lips watching him walk down the stairs. What was the point of overtaking Hector Barbossa's Pirate Lord title if she could not do anything practical with it? She frowned, pondering her options.

At last a small smile flitted across her face, and she followed James hoping that with a tad bit of luck and a fair amount of her personal charm, she could find a way to make him resign his title and call for a new Brethren gathering that could vote her the Pirate King.

* * *

Elizabeth had fallen asleep with Jack in her arms, but woke up in his arms instead, their foreheads touching, their faces so close that when she opened her eyes, her eyelashes were brushing against his face. She smiled, dragging her hand from where it lay draped over his hip, touched his chest, and ran her fingertips along his scars that were becoming more familiar with every touch, and she was certain that soon she would be able to close her eyes and draw a perfect map of his skin.

Slowly, Elizabeth sat upright, careful not to wake Jack up. She kept her eyes fixed on his face, thinking about all those future nights and days that they would share with each other. There were so many stories that she did not know yet, so many moments she wished he could explain to her, so many truths she longed to hear hoping that now he would tell her everything.

They were past their first encounters, first words, first lies... They were free to start anew – as one.

"Jack," she leaned down, changing her mind as to not waking him up. "Jack," she lightly touched his shoulder.

"Rum," muttered Jack, putting one of his hands under his head.

Elizabeth rolled her eyes, stifling a chuckle. "No, no rum," she said, leaning down. "Your wife," she whispered into his ear and kissed it.

She smiled when she saw Jack smirking in his sleep, and for a moment she even thought that he had woken up... but as it turned out he had not. "Jack," Elizabeth fell onto the pillows next to him. "Wake up," she said with a small pout, patting him on the cheek.

Jack grimaced, but after muttering some unintelligible words under his breath for a while, he finally opened his eyes and smiled noticing Elizabeth looking back at him.

"I'm not tired anymore," she said with an impish smile, and for a moment they just looked at each other in silence, until the meaning of her words finally dawned on Jack.

He swept Elizabeth into his arms and kissed her. "We have to turn it into the rule number four," he whispered huskily against her lips.

Elizabeth blinked questioningly, smiling at the recollection of the three rules they had made on their wedding day. "And what is that rule going to be?" she asked sweetly.

"Mrs. and Mr. Captain Sparrow don't wear any clothes to bed," explained Jack with a roguish grin.

Elizabeth laughed, tilting her head to the side, and letting him trail soft kissed along her neck. "This is a very practical rule, I agree," she said with a bright smile, wrapping her arms around his neck.

* * *

"It's a fair offer, isn't it?" Ameerah crossed her arms over her chest, looking at Will speculatively. "I need more crew, and you need..." she lingered on the word, causing Will to raise his eyebrow questioningly. "A distraction," she said at last, glancing at James who had just stepped onto the gangplank, and walked on board the _Black Pearl_, not even sparing her a glance.

She bit the inside of her cheek, inwardly admitting to herself that perhaps she needed a distraction as well.

"I'm not a sailor," said Will dismissively.

"I don't captain sailors," retorted Ameerah. "I captain pirates."

"I thought you captained a ship?" Will managed to hold her gaze, even thought he noticed a spark of clear irritation in her eyes.

"You don't want to stay on the _Black Pearl_, do you?" she asked in a slightly aggravated tone, narrowing her eyes at him.

"No, I don't," answered Will stiffly, his expression darkening.

Ameerah smiled. "I offer you and your father a place on my ship. For purely selfish reasons. Consider your own reasons and let me know your answer before we reach my ship," she said sharply, turning around and storming off, upset with herself that for some reason nothing and nobody seemed able to keep her mind off that infuriating Pirate bloody King.

She headed for the rum cellar, hoping she did not need more rum than Jack had on board his ship at the moment.

* * *

Port Royal seemed gloom, even from the distance and despite all the lights... Elizabeth stood with her elbows resting on the rail, watching the town where she had spent so many years disappear from view.

The brighter the sun grew, the paler the lights became, and soon she could only see the ocean and the sky interlaced in blue greyness, making her feel as if the _Black Pearl_ was the only place in the world.

"Thinking about me?" Jack wrapped his arms around her waist from behind, propping his chin on her shoulder.

"Why?" Elizabeth asked in a soft voice, leaning against him.

"You're smiling," he answered matter-of-factly.

Elizabeth laughed. "No," she shook her head.

"No?!" Jack swirled her around, locking her in his arms.

She laughed again. "I'm not smiling. I'm laughing and grinning," she said cupping his face in her hands.

"Because you're thinking about me," said Jack with a complacent smile.

"No," Elizabeth stood on her tiptoes, and kissed his pouting lips. "Because I love you," she whispered, leaning her forehead against his, and closing her eyes.

"Because _I _love _you_," corrected Jack in a low voice.

Elizabeth opened her eyes. "Both," she said with a smile.

Slowly, he pressed his lips to hers and kissed her, for the first time believing that it would last, that overpowering sense of completion and sweetness; of discovery that the greatest treasure was finally found.

She snuggled closer to him, and when he drew back and looked at her, she knew that now, at last, with the sea shimmering under her feet and his arms firm around her she was truly happy.

And the world was made out of dreams again.

**The End**


	64. Chapter 64

A/N: _**Thank you so much for all the amazing reviews!!!**_** :)**

&

**Have All Your Dreams Come True in the New Year!!!!!!! :):):)**

Disclaimer: PotC belong to Disney.

**Epilogue**

"Hurry up, we're late already," Governor Swann glanced at the clock in the corridor and then shifted his eyes to the stairs, smiling slightly.

He had not seen them in almost a year, and yet they did not seem to change at all. Since their arrival three days before, they were inseparable, holding hands at all times, which was not as stunning in itself as the fact that they seemed only half-aware of that habit. He wondered if in five, ten years they would be still doing it, and for some reason he did not consider it impossible.

"It's Jack's fault," said Elizabeth, pursing her lips, and shooting Jack a falsely upset look. "He was trying to refuse to wear a wig."

"Well said, luv," muttered Jack with a small pout. "I was _trying _to refuse."

Elizabeth bit back a smile, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. "But I persuaded you not to refuse, aye?"

"More like refused to accept my refusal," insisted Jack, glancing up at his wigged head with a frown on his face.

"You look absolutely dashing," said Elizabeth shaking her head with theatrical conviction. "Doesn't he, father?" she asked smilingly, turning to the Governor, who tried to keep a serious look on his face, even though there was something irresistibly comical about Jack- about Captain Jack Sparrow wearing a wig.

But they could not very well allow Jack to attend one of London winter balls displaying his dreadlocks, could they? It was risky enough to have Jack and Elizabeth come to London at all, but since that particular ball was going to be more like a small social gathering than a ball, the Governor thought it possible to get through it without compromising the appearances that he had managed to build and keep in the past year.

After leaving Port Royal almost a year ago, he had decided to come back to England, despite Elizabeth's attempts to convince him to stay aboard the _Black Pearl_. He had learnt to like (and maybe even more, although he was reluctant to admit it) that ship, the feeling of wind on his face during the day and the most beautiful moments of stargazing at night. However, he could not have imagined himself living permanently on a ship, at sea.

He had returned to England where he had been, to his surprise, greeted by the news about Beckett's death along with many stories about fantastic sums of money that had been defrauded by him, documents signed by the king that he had used for the purposes unapproved by the king, and other astounding pieces of information. The Governor's sudden appearance had been most warmly welcomed, and he had quickly recognized how opportune the moment was, and eagerly provided all the information he had had, recounting what he had known and witnessed as far as Beckett's wrongdoings were concerned.

He had regained his position faster that he would have ever expected possible, and was even offered the governorship again, but refused to take it, deciding to stay in London instead. He had not wanted to travel so far away again, especially now, when he would have had to travel alone, and living alone in another foreign place was not something that he had been looking forward to.

He had hardly believed his luck - everything was not only going smoothly, but actually working out better than he would have ever hoped for it to work.

Somehow everybody had accepted quite easily news of Elizabeth's marriage, even though it had taken Governor Swann some time and a fair amount of patience to explain why she had married neither James Norrington, nor even a young blacksmith.

He was half-surprised, half-ashamed by his newly discovered ability to lie, although he had tried to convince himself that it had been absolutely, inevitably necessary to lie in such circumstances... Having not too many options, he had chosen to announce that Elizabeth had married a rich English merchant who had spent half of his life in Spain and travelled all around the world. He had kept telling himself that at least the "all around the world" part was true... And not only that, but a romantic, unexpected, deep affection as well. The scenario had sounded credible enough to be accepted after mere three months of lively discussions and surreptitious, but not very ardent, criticism.

The Governor had managed to forward a letter to Elizabeth (as she had told him to do), and to his surprise he received a response within a month. It had become a habit for him to write a letter once in a month, and Elizabeth was always prompt to respond. He was yet to figure how it was possible to receive such quick responses (or any response at all, for that matter) for letters left on a sill in an abandoned building in one of the grimmest parts of the city, with a coin on top of them; but he had decided not to question that communication method as long as it was effective.

He had also written to James Norrington, assuring him that his return to England would have been most welcome after Beckett's unlawful deeds had been revealed. But the answer that he had receiver baffled him. Not only James had not wanted to return, but he had also expressed his deep conviction that he could not have possibly betrayed the trust that was put in him. Apparently, he had found his place in the world, and Governor Swann had thought that perhaps it was for the best, as because of that James would have undoubtedly kept an eye on Jack and Elizabeth, being probably the most sensible person near them.

As for Elizabeth's letters, they were always filled with such joy and enthusiasm that the Governor could not help shaking his head in amazement while reading them. Also, in each of her letters Elizabeth had tried to convince him to sail with her and Jack on the _Black Pearl_ if only for a while, but he had kept declining as well as promising that he would have visited them as soon as everything would have settled down a bit more. He had also expressed his wish to have them visit him.

Finally, after a year they both had decided that it was a good moment and high time to start visiting each other, and it had been settled that Jack and Elizabeth would have come to London first, and then in few months they would have picked the Governor up from a convenient port, and he would have sailed with them for a month or two.

He had been looking forward to their visit, as it was the longest time ever for which he had not seen his daughter. The house had seemed so empty, and for the first months he had felt like when his wife Evellyne had died... He had tried to make himself think that everything was in order, that Elizabeth was alive and most importantly happy, and his only reason to worry at the moment was her and her husband's safety, something that he had to accept was never to be taken for granted, considering the life that they had chosen to live.

And now that they were there, he was most happy to see them being as happy as he had remembered them: there was still the same light and love in their eyes every time they looked at or talked about each other.

Elizabeth had brought her father many presents, souvenirs from all the places she and Jack had been to during the past year, hours of stories. She had colorful rings on all of her fingers - and brightest of smiles.

"It's just a few hours, Jack," Elizabeth turned away from the carriage window, and narrowed her eyes at Jack.

Jack adjusted his wig for a hundredth time, staring stubbornly at his unusually clean hands, trying to find some consolation in the fact that he had at least managed to keep his rings.

"I'll take it off your head myself as soon as we get into the carriage after the ball," added Elizabeth in a playfully serious voice, biting back a smile, and lacing her hand through Jack's arm.

Jack shifted his eyes to her, a small pout still on his face. Elizabeth cradled his face in her hands, and laughed. He looked at her sadly for a moment, but then quickly turned his head right and left kissing her palms, and then taking her hands off his face, kissed her hands again, and kept them in his for the remaining part of their trip.

Governor Swann looked at them from the opposite seat, smiling to himself.

* * *

The place was overwhelmingly beautiful, because it was, among other things, _calm_. He could not quite embrace its quiescence just yet, could barely comprehend his presence there, but he could feel the calm emanating from everywhere around him, warm light encompassing him at every moment.

He did not think he deserved to be there. He did not think he could do well what he had been told to do. He was not sure he was the right person... Could one simple act be worth such a chance?

One simple act... Because what could be simpler, indeed? At that moment he had thought it was the most obvious decision – and maybe that was the point, that was what he had had to understand – what he ultimately had discovered.

He had had to go through darkness of death, of falsely appealing chance at immortality to at last come here, to the place where souls were waiting to begin their lives.

There was light all around him, and when he looked up he could see clouds in all the colors of a rainbow.

* * *

"May I have a dance?" A man bowed slightly, smiling at Elizabeth.

She smiled back, but her answer was cut off before she had even started answering.

"No," Jack pulled her closer to him, smiling at the man complacently.

The man looked at Jack with raised eyebrows, then shifted his gaze to Elizabeth who bit her lip, trying to keep herself from rolling her eyes.

The mad waited a moment yet, half-expecting the answer to be a joke, but since there was nothing more that either of them said, he bowed again, and walked off.

Elizabeth curtsied, and as soon as the man was gone turned to Jack.

"Jack, this is ridiculous!" she whispered through clenched teeth. "You've got to stop doing it. It's the fourth person, and you promised-"

"To love and to cherish," Jack interrupted her, lifting his finger. "Forsaking all others, which, may I remind you, luv, work both ways," he said seriously, wiggling his eyebrows.

"I don't think the part about forsaking refers to dancing," said Elizabeth, squinting.

Jack tilted his head backwards, opening his arms. "You can always dance with me," he said joyfully.

Elizabeth sighed. "I have you on a daily basis. I really don't think I needed to travel all the way to England to dance with you," she said with false irritation, thrusting up her chin.

Jack's eyes widened significantly, and Elizabeth laughed despite her efforts not to. Jack smiled, and leaned toward her. "I love you," he whispered in her ear, and she tilted her head to the side resting her cheek on his shoulder.

* * *

"Hello," Victor smiled hesitantly, slowly sitting down on a bench next to two small children whose dark eyes turned to him.

"Are we going yet?" asked the girl, straightening up, her eyes lighting up.

"No, not yet," Victor shook his head, and the girl pursed her lips with a sigh. "But soon," he added and she smiled.

"We're waiting here for soooooo long," she complained, shaking her head, her black locks dancing around her head as she did so.

"We just came here," corrected the boy with a twitch of his nose, but the girl poked him with her elbow, and he fell silent, pouting at her.

"What are your names?" asked Victor, amused by the looks on their faces, still not feeling confident about what he was doing. Those two children were two first souls that he was going to carry through the tunnel of light onto the Earth, and he thought that he should at least appear as if he knew what he was doing, so they would not be afraid. Although they did not seem to be afraid at all.

"Shouldn't _you_ tell us?" observed the girl resolutely.

Victor swallowed, and smiled, trying to cover up his embarrassment. "That's right," he said, opening a notebook that he had forgotten he was holding, and nervously searching through the pages.

"Are you... new here?" asked the girl, narrowing her eyes at him, and giving her twin brother a questioning look when this time he had poked her in the side.

"Actually... yes," admitted Victor. "Oh, here it is!" he announced happily, locating the information. "Evellyne and Ellery," he said, smiling at them, and then looked at the page again, and froze at the sight of their last name.

"My name is longer!" said Evellyne, clapping her hands.

"Is life difficult?" asked the boy, changing the not very interesting in his opinion subject, and looking at Victor questioningly.

Victor looked up, shaking himself off his reverie, for a moment just looking at the children thoughtfully, his smile returning.

"Do I have a second name?" inquired the girl, silencing her brother with a wave of her hand.

"Do you get to do lots of things when you live?" continued the boy, waving his hand at his sister in return. She shot him a stern look, but he did not seem to care. "Is it true that we won't remember _this_ moment once we're born?" he asked interestedly, his eyes shining with curiosity.

"What's my last name?" asked the girl in a loud voice. "They all have to match _in sound_," she explained, and Victor chuckled.

The boy rolled his eyes. "These are just names!" he sighed, covering his face with his hands.

The girl crossed her arms over her chest. "If they sound wrong, I'm not going anywhere."

Victor listened to the exchange with an amused smile, wondering if it was a mere accident, or something more that he had been given that particular pair of souls to escort to life first...

If there even was such a thing as accident.

Evellyne and Ellery continued their discussion, and Victor looked at them, astounded by how perfectly they resembled both of their parents at once.

He smiled at the thought that if it was not for him, those children would not have been sitting there right now, and something about that realization made him not only feel the light around him, but feel the light emanating from within his own heart, and he smiled thinking that he had never felt more alive.

"What's _your_ name?" asked the girl, breaking into his thoughts.

"Victor," he replied with a smile.

"That's a good name for an angel," said the girl decidedly after a moment of consideration.

* * *

"Mr. and Mrs. Worraps, please sit here."

Jack and Elizabeth moved toward the assigned seats.

"I really don't know how my father could have come up with such a name," whispered Elizabeth into Jack's ear, smiling artificially at the people around them.

"I think he was trying to keep to the truth as close as possible," Jack whispered back with a smirk.

"It doesn't even sound English. Or Spanish for that matter," muttered Elizabeth, wrinkling her nose.

"I'll make it work, don't worry, luv," Jack helped Elizabeth to sit down, and kissed her hand before sitting down himself, continuing to astound everybody present, and even Elizabeth herself with his behaviour. Apparently, he knew and remembered more about the etiquette than she, and not only that. He had also treated her almost exactly the same as he had when they were alone, doing all the little gestures that she liked so much, and that was something she had not expected him to do in public. Although she was not entirely sure if it was the best idea, after all, as she kept catching envious looks of other married women at the ball whose husbands did not appear even half as fond of their wives.

* * *

After a couple of hours of talking, dancing, and eating, and after several tales that Jack could not resist spinning, telling his enthralled audience fantastic tales about his parents, about the dangers that he had encountered in his exotic travels, his secret dealings with the royalty of England and Spain (although, of course, he could not reveal the details, and Elizabeth had to laugh at the implication that seemed to cling to all the listeners that Jack was not a mere merchant, but an English spy with a very special, secret mission, assigned to him by the king himself), the gathering was separated into two groups, one of men, and one of women. Men went to enjoy drinks and a game of cards by the fireplace, while women went off to share news about themselves as well as all the available gossip.

Elizabeth smiled to herself while following the women, thinking of Jack's tales, and how the more vague and amazing they had been becoming, the more intently everybody was listening to them, and at some point Elizabeth had realized that even her father was listening to Jack with great interest, even though he must have been well aware of the doubtful truthfulness of his stories.

Elizabeth sat down with her cup of tea, and prepared herself for a dreadfully boring evening. The discussion began by her married friends enumerating their more and less serious problems that they had with their husbands and households, and she found herself trying to find something fitting to say, but somehow she could not think of anything... Was Jack never home? The _Black Pearl_ was their home, so he was at home all the time. Was he home too much? There was no such a thing like too much of Jack Sparrow. Was he not listening to her? He always listened. Was he requiring too much of her? He did not require anything – he waited for her to say what she wanted to do. Was he disregarding her wishes? He was actually guessing them in advance.

The only objection that she could find was his habit of waking her up in the middle of the night to-

She laughed, almost dropping her teacup. The conversation trailed off, and everybody looked at her. Elizabeth blinked, and then quickly started to cough, trying to cover up her laughter.

* * *

"Women are hard to understand, wouldn't you agree, Mr. Worraps?"

Jack looked at his cards with a thoughtful expression on his face, wondering if he should not let somebody else win, for a change. "No, I don't think they are," he said, picking one of his cards, and placing it face down on the table.

The man who had asked the question raised his eyebrows. Governor Swann took a sip of his drink.

"Unless they speak a foreign language which you happen not to know," added Jack, and almost all the men gathered around the table chuckled.

"So you always understand what it is that your wife means, Mr. Worraps?" insisted the man, and Jack looked at him from above his cards speculatively, a small smile flitting across his face.

"If I don't, I ask. It rather works," replied Jack, keeping his eyes at the man, while changing the order of the cards that he was holding in his hand.

"Oh, that's not a rule," somebody else observed good-humoredly. "I keep asking my wife why she's having severe headaches all the time." A few men laughed. "She's yet to answer me this question."

"The answer is easy," Jack smiled slightly, choosing a new card from the deck. "The lack of fresh air. You need to open all the windows in your house daily. No headache can survive that," he said matter-of-factly, studying his cards, while several men laughed, several smiled, among them the man who had spoken, even though he was not quite certain if Jack was making fun of him or really trying to give him a helpful advice without understanding his question too well.

"You do just that, I understand," said the man, looking at Jack intensely.

"I would," Jack shifted his eyes from his cards to him. "But fortunately neither my wife nor me suffers from headaches," he said with a disarming smile, and wanted to add something more, but decided that in the Governor's presence what he had already said was enough, so he returned his attention to the card, leaving the man with a half-annoyed, half-embarrassed look on his face.

* * *

"How about you, Elizabeth?"

Elizabeth looked up from her teacup. "Me?" She had hoped they had already forgotten she was in the room, as she had not spoken much.

"Yes," a girl smiled. "What do you do when you want your husband to leave you alone?"

Elizabeth quickly scanned the faces around her, all eyes fixed on her. "Well," she carefully placed her cup on the plate. "I never do, actually," she admitted after a pause, deciding that making up some false excuses would not do.

"You never do anything?" inquired another girl, a bit confused by the answer.

"No," Elizabeth cleared her throat. "I never want him to leave me alone."

The room fell silent, except for the clock that struck ten. "Oh," Elizabeth quickly rose to her feet, grateful for the pretext. "I'll be right back," she said, heading for the door.

* * *

"I'll be right back," announced Jack with a smile, staggering to his feet as soon as the clock struck ten, and walking out of the room.

The Governor followed him with his gaze, noticing that it was the fourth time when Jack had left the room. He seemed to be leaving for a few minutes every half an hour, and the Governor finally found it rather puzzling.

Excusing himself, he rose to his feet as well to follow Jack, and see why - whenever the clock struck a half or full hour - he was disappearing for a while.

He walked across the corridor at the end of which he saw Jack, who opened a door and went into one of the rooms. After a moment, the Governor was right in front of the same door, and slowly raised his hand, carefully pushing the door open without much difficulty.

Jack was standing in the middle of a rather large room, but before the Governor decided to either enter or exit, the door on the opposite side of the room opened, and... Elizabeth half-ran inside, Jack smiling at the sight of her.

"I'm dying there," complained Elizabeth with a pout, after throwing herself into Jack's arms with a bright smile.

"And I'm winning," said Jack, nuzzling her neck, which caused the Governor to move backwards rather abruptly.

"Fairly?" asked Elizabeth disbelievingly, drawing back and smirking.

"I will tactfully disregard this tactless question," said Jack, squinting.

Elizabeth kissed his nose, his chin, his mouth, and the drew back, giggling. "I told everybody just what a horrific husband I have," she said in serious tone, narrowing her eyes to hide her smile.

"Did you now?" Jack widened his eyes at her, smirking. "Surely you didn't enumerate all his numerous scandalous acts?"

"I did," Elizabeth shook her head with conviction. "I told them how you keep kissing my feet until I wake up, not letting me sleep." Jack snorted. "I'm sure it can be qualified as torture," she said pursing her lips.

Jack brushed his lips against hers. "I hope you didn't fail to mention that you keep waking me up as well," he whispered with a mischievous smile, kissing her again.

The Governor looked away, and was going to close the door and walk away, especially that after a few more kisses they disentangled themselves from each other, and were going to come back to their respective rooms, but then Elizabeth caught Jack's sleeve and pulled him toward her again.

"Is everything alright, Lizzie?" asked Jack, looking at her intently, and noticing a strange glint in her eyes.

She bit her lip and nodded, reaching out and adjusting his wig, even though it did not really need adjusting at the moment. Jack tilted his head to the side, and narrowed his eyes at her with a smile.

"Lizzie?"

The Governor kept the door ajar, intrigued, even though somewhere on the back of his mind he was scolding himself for eavesdropping.

"I have something to tell you..." said Elizabeth almost stammering at the words, something that Jack found rather alarming. All of a sudden she found great interest in the way his buttons were aligned, straightening them, sheepish smile hovering over her lips. "I wanted to tell you something..."

"Elizabeth?" Jack propped her chin with his hand, forcing her to look at him.

She sighed. "I don't know how to say it to make it sound special," she said with a pout.

"Everything you say is special, luv," said Jack, and Elizabeth snorted. "What is it?"

Elizabeth sighed again, looking at him for a moment in silence, until she finally decided to speak. Taking a deep breath, and then taking his hands in hers, she looked deeply into his eyes and smiled: "We're going to have a baby."

The Governor almost fell over, so he had missed the very first expression that had appeared on Jack's face.

Jack stared at Elizabeth with wide eyes, and for a moment Elizabeth thought that she should have provided him with rum before telling him the news. He certainly looked like he was in need of rum.

"A baby?" he whispered, and Elizabeth nodded, biting back a smile, even though the expression of absolute astonishment - and fear, almost - on his face, was most amusing. "Little you," he said after a pause, the corners of his mouth beginning to turn upwards.

Elizabeth beamed, relieved. A small part of her had been afraid that he would not have been overjoyed, but now she could not understand how she could have ever been unsure of his reaction. "Little _you_," she said with a smile, placing her hands on his shoulders.

Jack grinned, and kissed her, cradling her face in his hands. "Little us," he said with an impish smile after breaking the kiss, and Elizabeth laughed.

Governor Swann cautiously withdrew, and noiselessly closed the door behind him, the sound of laughter accompanying him as he slowly walked down the corridor, smiling to himself.

**~~~~~~~Sparrabeth Forever~~~~~~~**


End file.
